


So Alive

by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4)



Series: Brooklyn Heights Books [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alexander Pierce Is Always a Jerk, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Everyone Is His Guinea Pig, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Bookstore AU, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boys In Love, Brock Rumlow is Always Awful, Clint Barton Is a Coffee Snob, Daddy Kink, Don't Mess With Steve Roger's Baby, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Frottage, Gay Bucky Barnes, Hand Jobs, Ignoring safewords, Kink Shaming, Light Spanking, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Nerds in Love, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay, Overprotective Natasha Romanov, Overprotective Nick Fury, Overprotective Steve Rogers, Pastry Chef Natasha, Peter Quill is a Good Bro, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Semi-Public Blow Jobs, Sharon Carter Is Awful, Size Kink, Stalking, Tony Stark Is a Terrible Flirt, Top Steve Rogers, Unrepentant Fluff, so many feels, song prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 108,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmic_Entity_1of4/pseuds/GottaSaveBucky
Summary: A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.Beautiful,was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.__________A bookstore AU starring our favorite OTP, set to the song “So Alive” by Love and Rockets (from their fourth album “Love and Rockets,” 1989).** COMPLETED **





	1. I Don't Know What Color Your Eyes Are, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I happened to hear this song for the first time in ages, and it just felt perfect for a Stucky (like we really need an excuse, right?). I hope you like it!

 

“Steve, did you see this order come in?”

 

Steve Rogers, Founder and President of SHIELD Publications, looked up from his computer at Peggy, who was strolling into his office-slash-glorified-cubicle brandishing a piece of paper. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Who’s it from?” he asked.

 

“Brooklyn Heights Books,” Peggy said, reading the order form.

 

“I saw that it came in,” Steve said, sitting back, “but they’ve ordered from us before. What’s the problem?”

 

“There’s no problem,” Peggy said, showing him the paper. “Quite the opposite, actually. They’ve expanded their title request and more than doubled the number of copies they usually ask for.”

 

“Really?” Steve said, taking the form and looking at the numbers. “That’s great. Nick Fury is still the owner, right?”

 

“That’s what their website says,” Peggy replied.

 

“I like Nick,” Steve said. “The few times I’ve talked to him, anyway. He doesn’t really get comics, but he knows enough to appreciate quality and he treats people well.” He handed Peggy the form. “Feel like taking a field trip?”

 

“Can’t today,” Peggy said. “After I finish here I need to deliver amortization documents to Tony’s offices before they close.”

 

“Ah, the glorious life of an accountant,” Steve joked, shutting off his computer and standing up. He took his jacket off the back of his chair. “I’ll ask Sam if he wants to go.”

 

“Yes, please take Sam with you,” a voice cried from the next cubicle over. Peter Parker, Steve’s office assistant, said pleadingly, “He keeps throwing these weird origami birds at me.”

 

“They are not _weird,_ ” Sam said indignantly from across the aisle. “They are falcons and they are majestic creatures, you heathen.”

 

Peter turned his gaze back on Steve, silently begging with his big, sad, puppy eyes.

 

Steve laughed as he pulled his jacket on. “Suit up, Sam, we’re moving out.”

 

“See you tomorrow,” Peggy sang out, walking over to her desk.

 

“Have a good evening, everyone,” Steve replied, as he and Sam walked out into the afternoon sunshine.

 

 

***

 

The drive from Lower Manhattan, where SHIELD’s office was located, to Brooklyn Heights, while being less than four miles, took nearly half an hour. “I could run there faster than this,” Sam groused as they crawled along in traffic.

 

“We should do that one day,” Steve said, a grin stretched across his face. “Leave the car at home and just run everywhere we need to go.”

 

“You go right ahead, you big ol’ side of beef,” Sam scoffed. “I’ll stay in here and enjoy the air conditioning by myself.”

 

That summer had, as per usual, been hot and humid, and both men were looking forward to the fall weather’s cooler temperatures. Those were still at least a month away, though, so they were grateful for Steve’s cool and comfortable car interior, even if it meant being stuck in traffic.

 

By the time they got to Brooklyn Heights, it was mid-afternoon. They turned on to Court Street and found parking not too far from the bookstore they were visiting. While walking over, they checked out the neighborhood—it was an interesting mix of old, family-owned businesses and trendy new restaurants and boutiques, enjoying the upswing of gentrification that was also boosting real estate prices.

 

“This is a nice area,” Sam commented, nodding as he looked around. “I don’t get over here very much.”

 

“It’s definitely cleaned up from when I was younger, but then again, so has most of Brooklyn,” Steve agreed. He looked up at a sign overhead. “There it is.”

 

The sign for Brooklyn Heights Books was large and round, black on white, with the initials “BHB” in a bold, traditional font, with the first “B” actually facing backward in a way that was both symmetrical and pleasing to the eye. The circle was superimposed on an open book, which gave the sign a nice depth. It hung from the awning on the front of a brick-faced, two-story building that somehow managed to look both old and modern at the same time. It was very clean and well maintained, with potted plants and flowers out front, and was sandwiched between an ice-cream shop and a UPS Store.

 

When they opened the front door, a bell jingled happily overhead, announcing their entrance. After closing the door behind them, Sam inhaled obnoxiously through his nose, moaning as he exhaled, “Lord have mercy, what is _that?_ It smells amazing!”

 

A laugh to their left pulled their attention into the small café that sat at the front of the bookstore. A man behind the counter, with short, dark-blond hair and a big smile, said, “I know, right? Our afternoon delivery of pastries just came in.”

 

“We are hittin’ that before we leave,” Sam said, to which Steve just laughed.

 

“Sure, I could use a coffee,” he said. “But let’s go have a look around first. I don’t want to leave crumbs on the floor.”

 

“Lead the way, sir,” Sam said, gesturing to Steve. To the man in the café, who was bringing a small cup of coffee and a plate of cookies over to a customer at one of their eat-in tables, he said, “We’ll be back in a few minutes—save some of those pastries for us!”

 

“You got it!” he said with a grin, waving them off.

 

Steve wandered down the main aisle of the bookstore, noting the layout—newsstand at the front, by the café, new releases and best sellers next to that. Checkout was a modest, two-register system in the center of the first floor, which was unique. Steve looked to either side of the store and saw that there were stairs on one side to take people to the second floor, and an elevator on the other side. Most of the first floor was dedicated, it appeared, to fiction and a small children’s section in the back, while non-fiction was on the second floor. It was well laid out and comfortable, with small seating areas scattered about, decorated with dark wood tones and deep red, blue, and green fabric elements, with large signs overhead to direct people to their desired subject matter.

 

“This is a really nice place,” Steve said. “Very cozy. I like it.” He pointed to a sign off to his left. “Graphic novels, right over there.”

 

They wandered past the checkout area, where a young woman with dark, red-to-black ombre hair, smiled at them. “Hi there, welcome to Brooklyn Heights Books. Can I help you find something?”

 

“Well, hello—“ Steve checked her name tag, “—Mora, we’re here to check out the graphic novels and comic book section.” He pointed over his shoulder to the area behind him. “Over here?”

 

“You got it,” she smiled. “Our manager is working on expanding that area. He’s a huge fan. I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

 

“Good to know,” Steve said, “thanks.”

 

He and Sam walked into the aisle marked ‘Comics/Graphic Novels,’ and Steve came to a complete halt. “Wow,” he said quietly.

 

Sam whistled through his teeth. “Daaang,” he said slowly, “the manager really is a fan, isn’t he?”

 

While most bookstores—even the really big ones—might have one or two bays of shelves set aside for graphic novels, this store had an entire aisle. Ten bays, divided by publisher, series, volume, and issue, plus a separate, very large and prominent display set aside just for—Steve couldn’t believe it—SHIELD Publications new releases.

 

It was taller than the other bookshelves, due to the company logo—a large, round, red, white, and blue shield with a white star in the center—that made up the back of the display. Shelves stretched across the width of the shield, and the issues were all face-forward, showcasing the art on the covers.

 

“Holy mackerel,” he said, walking over to the display, which held the latest copies of every series they published. He looked at the display itself, which was well constructed and sturdy. The paint job was professional looking and very striking. “This isn’t one of the normal display stands,” he said to Sam.

 

“Nope,” a man said, walking down the aisle toward them. “Our manager asked one of the café guys to build that—Pietro, he’s a really good wood- and metal-worker—and Pietro’s sister Wanda painted it. She’s an artist,” the man said.

 

“An artist? For, like, murals and things?” Sam asked.

 

“Lots of things, but tattoos mostly,” the man said. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Pete, by the way. I work here.”

 

“Hi, Pete, I’m Steve, this is Sam,” Steve said, shaking his hand. Sam followed suit. “This is a really impressive collection,” he said, gesturing around him.

 

“If you like comics and graphic novels, you should definitely talk to our manager,” Pete said. “He’s, like, super-fan. Especially the SHIELD novels, those are his favorites.”

 

“Mine, too,” Steve smiled. “Is your manager around? I’d love to talk to him.”

 

“Not at the moment, unfortunately,” Pete said. “He had to run out and get something for Nick, the owner. He’ll be back a little later, though. His name is James.”

 

“I’m sure I’ll catch him another time,” Steve said. “Thanks for talking to us.”

 

“Any time,” Pete said, shaking their hands again. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

 

After Pete left to help Mora at the registers, Sam and Steve looked over the rest of the aisle, pointing things out to each other. If the new manager was the one who had put it all together, he was clearly not only knowledgeable, but passionate, too. He carried the best artists and storytellers—and not just the well-known ones, either. New and promising writers were right alongside classic series. Steve was seriously impressed.

 

“This guy has great taste,” he said to Sam as they wandered back up to the front of the store, a bag in his hand holding a new issue of a series he’d been waiting for.

 

“You’re not just saying that because he worships you?” Sam asked sarcastically.

 

Steve huffed a laugh. “He likes the books, not me,” he said. “Now let’s go get some coffee.”

 

***

 

Sam moaned after taking a bite of pastry. “ _Ohmygaaawd,_ ” he sighed, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “This is—this is just…wow,” he finally managed to say after eating the first bite.

 

The man behind the counter—his name was Clint—had put together a sampler plate for Sam and Steve, and Sam had attacked the apple tart with gusto. It was light and flaky, the apples the perfect combination of sweet and sour, and combined with the salted caramel macchiato that Clint had created for him, he was in heaven.

 

Steve was equally enamored with the tiny napoleon that he was having with his black coffee. Unlike Sam, Steve was not a big fan of the sweet, sugary concoctions that coffee shops had started coming out with, though Clint managed to make them without using the fake, syrupy additives that other places used. “I am a total coffee snob, and I can’t stand the artificial junk that a lot of places use to cover up inferior coffee. My wife makes all the flavorings that I use here,” he explained. “She buys all the ingredients and makes them herself. All natural, all organic.”

 

“This is fantastic,” Sam said, swallowing the last bit of apple. “Is she a chef?”

 

“She’s a professional pastry chef, yeah,” Clint said, smiling broadly. “She made all the pastries here, too.”

 

“How are you not eight hundred pounds?” Sam asked, his eyes wide.

 

Clint laughed. “It’s not easy, man. I have to go to the gym religiously.”

 

“Well, please pass on our compliments,” Steve said, wiping his hands. “All of it was excellent.”

 

“Thanks, guys,” Clint said, beaming with pride. “Her business is called ‘Red Room Pastries.’ She delivers to a few restaurants around here.”

 

Steve heard the bell over the front door jingling, and when Clint waved at the person who came in, calling out, “Hey, Buck!” he glanced over his shoulder as Sam and Clint continued discussing pastries. A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

 

 _Beautiful,_ was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

 

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

 

“You okay, man?” Sam asked a few seconds later, laughter on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Buh—whaaa, huh?” Steve finally said, tearing his eyes away from the man’s posterior and meeting Sam’s eyes.

 

“You might want to close your mouth before you start drooling,” Sam continued, grinning from ear-to-ear.

 

“I—I wasn’t—“ Steve began to protest.

 

“No, I get it, Steve. He was pretty cute,” Sam said, nodding happily as he drank his coffee.

 

“Sam!” Steve hissed, looking around to see if anyone else had heard.

 

Sam’s eyes softened. “Steve,” he said quietly, “you know it’s okay, right? I’m not gonna freak out because you like guys. I’ve known for a long time, remember?” He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I just want you to be happy. After that mess with…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “You haven’t dated anyone in a while. I don’t like seeing you worried about what I’m going to think.”

 

“I know, Sam,” Steve sighed, looking at his feet. “It’s just,” he paused, “it’s been a while since I’ve even looked at anyone. Just kind of caught me off guard.”

 

“Sometimes being caught off guard is a good thing,” Sam said, nudging him with his shoulder. “Doesn’t give you a chance to close yourself off first.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Steve replied, blushing. He took another sip of coffee, pretending that he wasn’t keeping an eye out for the dark-haired man.

 

They finished up their drinks and the plate of treats, but unfortunately for Steve, he didn’t catch another glimpse of the man with the gorgeous smile. After thanking Clint again as they were walking out, Sam said, “You can always ask Clint who that was. Seemed like they knew each other.”

 

“That would be weird and creepy,” Steve said, shaking his head.

 

“Well, we can come back here next week, have some more of those incredible apple tarts and amazing coffee, you can talk to the manager if he’s there, maybe that guy will be around.” Sam looked at Steve as he shook his head some more, laughing. “What? It could happen.”

 

“I don’t even know if he’s, you know,” Steve shrugged, getting his car keys out of his pocket.

 

“If he bats for your team?” Sam grinned.

 

“Yeah, that,” Steve sighed. “And even if he does, I seriously doubt he’s single.”

 

“I’m secure enough in my sexuality to say that you’re a very good-looking man,” Sam said sincerely. “You got that whole, ‘sensitive lumberjack’ thing going on with the beard and the soulful blue eyes and the huge biceps. If you ever see that guy again, just talk to him. Believe me, if he’s interested, you’ll know.”

 

They had reached Steve’s car by this point, and as they buckled up and pulled out of the parking space, Steve said, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I got another letter from Pierce today.”

 

“Same old shit?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes.

 

“Yup,” Steve replied, his annoyance obvious. “Wants the rights to my characters, blah, blah, blah, thinly-veiled threats, blah, blah, blah, same old, same old.”

 

“Want me to send out the usual refusal letter?” Sam asked.

 

“Yes, please,” Steve said. He frowned in confusion. “I just don’t get it. Why does he keep asking when he knows I’ll never sell? He’s got to know by now that he’s not going to wear me down.”

 

“Beats the hell outta me,” Sam said. “I’m about ready to file for a ‘Cease and Desist’ order against him.”

 

“Have I ever told you how glad I am you decided that you wanted to be a lawyer when we were kids?” Steve asked, chuckling.

 

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Sam laughed. “Thought I’d end up a defense lawyer, though, just to keep your dumb ass outta jail.”

 

“I wasn’t that bad,” Steve responded, pretending to be offended. He knew better, though—he really had been that bad. Worse, actually.

 

Despite being a small kid, Steve had stood up to every bully he’d come across, usually at great personal peril. By the time he’d met Sam in middle school, his nose had already been broken multiple times; this had done nothing, however, to dissuade Steve from standing up to boys twice his height and three times his weight.

 

This was what had drawn Sam to him in the first place. Steve was all fire and heart and never met a problem that he couldn’t solve or fight his way out of—and this quality hadn’t changed a bit, even after Steve hit a massive growth spurt during senior year of high school. His sense of right and wrong, coupled with his determination to give everything he had for a cause he believed in had made them fast friends. The only time he’d ever seen Steve bite his tongue and bow down to pressure had been awful; Steve had tried to change who he was to please someone else, and it had been horrible. Sam never wanted to see Steve that unhappy ever again.

 

So Sam, despite having another, full-time job as a corporate lawyer, handled all of Steve’s legal work. Steve paid him hourly, kept a cubicle for him, next to his own, so he would always have somewhere to work, and Sam was usually there for a few hours one or two days a week. There wasn’t enough to do to keep him on full-time, but issues like Alexander Pierce were beyond Steve’s professional ability.

 

Pierce was the president of House of Hydra, a huge comic publisher and distributor that put out dozens of books every week. He’d been hounding Steve for over a year to sell the rights to _Captain America_ , as well as the spin-off titles, to H.O.H. in exchange for a fancy job and a fat paycheck. Steve had refused, flat-out, not willing to consider the offer for even a second. SHIELD Publications was something he had dreamed of and worked for, for most of his life. He wasn’t giving it up, not for anyone.

 

His out-and-out refusal had displeased Pierce greatly; Pierce had tried to threaten Steve with a lawsuit claiming copyright infringement and theft of intellectual properties, among other things. It was all bluster, of course; Steve had proof that all of his creations were his and his alone, dating back almost twenty years. Sam had made sure of that, believing so much in Steve’s abilities and determination that he had personally taken Steve to fill out all the copyright and trademark paperwork to protect himself and his creations when they were still in high school. Steve had worked hard for everything he had accomplished, but he knew without the support and encouragement he’d received from those closest to him he would never have been as successful.

 

Steve’s refusal to sell out had also been the turning point in his last relationship. She had ~~demanded that he~~ encouraged him to take the offer from Pierce, and when Steve had turned it down instead, she had packed up her things and walked out, claiming that Steve needed to ‘grow up.’

 

It had hurt, a lot, that she hadn’t believed in Steve or in SHIELD Publications, but after a few months, Steve had decided that it was for the best. Her constant hints and intimations that Steve needed to do something else, _be_ something else, in order to be worthy of affection had begun to erode his confidence. Luckily, his real friends—Sam, Peggy, and Tony—had been there to make sure he didn’t fold under the constant pressure.

 

So Steve had thrown himself into his work, wrote new story lines for each series, created incredible artwork, and had increased his sales beyond projections. They say living well is the best revenge? Well, Steve was certainly doing well in his professional life. His personal life, on the other hand….

 

***

 

Bucky went into the office and set Nick’s package down on the small desk they shared. He was reasonably sure that Brock would be gone by now, but his heart rate shot up anyway as he walked through the break room and approached the storeroom door.

 

He hated that he still felt this way, that even mentioning Brock’s name sent him into a panic and made him feel so ashamed that he was sick to his stomach. It had been over six months now, you’d think that hearing his name or seeing his face wouldn’t scare him so much anymore; however, Brock seemed to get off on the fact that he still had that kind of power over Bucky, and he enjoyed the reactions his presence produced.

 

If Bucky didn’t have to see him anymore, it would just make everything so much easier; unfortunately, he continued to show up, every few weeks, leering at Bucky and making his disgusting comments. Today had been no different.

 

They had been receiving shipments all day, and Bucky was in the storeroom, opening boxes and adding merchandise into inventory. When the alley door buzzer went off, he opened it without hesitation, ready for the next shipment of boxes—and there he was, Brock Rumlow, smirking at Bucky like always.

 

“Hey, James,” he said slowly, eyeing him up and down, “I’ve got something for you.”

 

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat tightening up, determined not to let Brock get to him this time. “Just give me the clipboard,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll sign for the delivery and you can go.”

 

“What’s the hurry?” Brock asked, leaning against the doorway. “I’ve got some time—why don’t you and I hop in the truck for—“

 

“Go to hell,” Bucky said, his hands starting to shake. “Just leave the boxes and get out.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, James, don’t be like that,” he said, straightening up and taking a step forward. “You’re not still mad, are you? I thought you liked it rough.”

 

“Leave me alone, Brock,” Bucky gritted out, trying to keep his voice steady as he backed up, his gut churning. “I told you I don’t want anything to do with you.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” he laughed smugly, “I know you like that perverted shit. Tell you what—I’ll even let you call me Da—“

 

“Mister Rumlow,” a loud voice said from the doorway leading into the break room, making them both jump. “Just leave the boxes and go.”

 

Bucky turned and saw his boss, Nick, standing there, looking angry, and his heart flooded with relief. Brock, on the other hand, looked anything but happy.

 

“Barnes,” Nick said, tilting his head to beckon Bucky over. When Bucky walked up to him, he said quietly, “I have a package that needs to be picked up. The information is on the desk. Would you mind getting that for me?”

 

Bucky looked over his shoulder at Brock, who had started unloading boxes from his hand truck, dropping them loudly onto the concrete floor. “Don’t worry about this,” Nick said. “I’ll handle it.”

 

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, and there was nothing he could do to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

 

“I’m sure,” Nick nodded. “Take your time.”

 

Bucky gave him a small, but grateful smile. “Thanks, Nick.”

 

Bucky had left the storeroom quickly, willing his stomach to settle. He picked up the package information from the desk, grabbed his favorite blue sunglasses, and left. Walking out through the bookstore, he nodded at Mora quickly and said, “I’m picking something up for Nick, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” and then headed quickly for the front door.

 

Once he was outside he felt better. It was warm, but not oppressively so, and the humidity was starting to lighten up a bit. Still, he was glad that he’d pulled his hair up into a sloppy bun, just to keep it off his neck, and he was definitely looking forward to autumn. Long sleeves and hot weather were not a fun combination.

 

He walked at an easy pace, not exactly strolling, but not setting any land speed records, either. He knew it would take about ten minutes for Brock to unload all the boxes, so he took twenty minutes to pick up the package and get back, just to be safe.

 

By the time he returned, he was breathing much easier. With Nick’s package tucked under his right arm, he opened the door to the bookstore, the bell jingling happily like it always did, welcoming him back. He heard Clint call out to him, “Hey, Buck!”

 

He looked into the café, where Clint was helping some customers—one of them, a big, blond guy, had the craziest shoulder-width-to-waist-ratio Bucky had ever seen, not to mention the nicest ass he’d seen in _ages_ —and he waved, smiling, as he walked by.

 

Once he was in the office, and had set Nick’s package down, he took a deep breath. Walking toward the storeroom door, he was startled when it suddenly swung open. Pete walked out, carrying a stack of books. “Hey, Buckeroni!” he said, smiling. “You’re back!”

 

“Hey, Pete,” Bucky greeted him, “everything okay in there?”

 

“Yeah, why?” Pete asked, confused.

 

Bucky shook his head. “It’s nothing. Is Nick in there?”

 

“Yeah, he’s sorting out some periodicals,” he replied, then he held up the books. “I gotta take these out front.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, “I’ll be out there in a minute.”

 

“Cool,” Pete said, walking out of the office.

 

Relieved that Brock was gone, Bucky went into the storeroom. Nick had pulled up a chair and was separating piles of magazines for the newsstand. “I can do that,” Bucky said, walking over to join him.

 

“I know you can,” Nick said, looking up at him. “You alright?”

 

“Yes, thank you, Nick,” Bucky said, smiling at him.

 

Nick nodded, then asked, “How long has this been going on?”

 

Bucky knew better than to lie, or to pretend that he didn’t know what Nick was talking about. “Since I left him,” he answered honestly.

 

Nick gave him a hard look. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“It’s just talk, Nick,” Bucky said, shrugging. “Really, I don’t want you to worry about it. Eventually he’ll get bored with it and stop.”

 

Nick shook his head. “It shouldn’t be happening, Buck. I don’t like it.”

 

“It’ll be okay,” Bucky smiled, trying to look convincing as he pulled up a chair of his own to help sort magazines.

 

He really hoped he was telling the truth.

 

***

 

Steve pulled up in front of Sam’s building just as the sun started to set. “See you tomorrow?” he asked.

 

“Not tomorrow,” Sam said, opening his door. “I need to file a bunch of stuff with the City Recorder, and it’s probably going to take me all day. I’ll be there Friday afternoon, though. I’ll send that refusal letter to Pierce, too. You want me to look into the C&D?”

 

“Maybe add a warning to the refusal letter that C&D will be our next step,” Steve said. “I’m tired of dealing with him.”

 

“You got it,” Sam said, sticking his fist out. Steve bumped it, and Sam climbed out of the car. “See you in a couple days.”

 

“G’night, Sam,” Steve said as Sam shut the door and walked into the building. Once he was inside—Steve’s mom always told him to make sure his friends were inside their homes before leaving, and it was a habit he knew he would never break—Steve pulled back out into the street and drove the two blocks to his own building.

 

He found a parking spot across the street from his place and went inside, saying hello to Mister Davis, the afternoon doorman, as he walked through the lobby on his way to the elevator. Once Peggy had finally convinced Steve that SHIELD Publications was actually successful and was turning a sizeable profit, the first thing Steve had done was buy an apartment. He’d found a place in DUMBO that was in a nice building, in a pretty good area, but didn’t have its own parking garage—only permitted street spaces—and was sorely in need of updating. Steve had never been afraid of hard work, and he had done a lot of the remodeling himself; well, he and Sam, really. Sam had been returning the favor from when Steve had helped him with his own fixer-upper. He’d contracted out the plumbing and electrical work, as well as the tile and counters, but they had done everything else themselves, and Steve was proud of the results.

 

He exited the elevator on his floor and walked down the hallway to his front door. There were only two units per floor, and Steve’s was the one on the southeast side of the building. He loved the morning sunlight that poured in to his bedroom, as well as the afternoon light that came into his south-facing spare room.

 

He let himself in and turned on the light, and he was greeted by warm, earthy colors and a welcoming atmosphere. When his ex had left, Steve had been concerned that his place would feel too big, too empty with only him there. The opposite had actually happened; once she was gone and had taken her heavy and suffocating presence with her, everything had felt lighter, more open, like he could finally breathe.

 

There was a table inside to the left of the front door with a bowl on top to drop his keys, and a good-sized coat closet to hang up his outerwear along the wall to the right. Opening up to his left was the living room, with two overstuffed chairs and the leather sofa his ex had hated but Steve loved, with his big TV and sound system to watch all the baseball, football, and basketball he could stand. Straight ahead was the kitchen, with the dark cherry cabinets, white countertops, and stainless steel appliances.

 

Past the living room to the right was a hallway that led to two bedrooms, a laundry closet and the guest bathroom, which didn’t seem like a lot of space—until you saw the size of the rooms. The rooms were huge by current standards, allowing him to make them multi-purpose. Steve was also a big fan of non-traditional furniture. His spare room, for example, which he used as an office-slash-studio, had a bed that folded up into a built-in cabinet when it wasn’t being used. Steve had spent a few nights on that bed while his last relationship was crashing and burning, and found that it was rather comfortable, all things considered.

 

He’d re-painted in the colors he wanted—with more thanks to Sam, who had been overjoyed to help—and now it felt cozier, but more masculine at the same time. The living room and public area walls were a creamy chocolate brown, the bedrooms were both a soft, sage green, and the two bathrooms were done in shades of blue and gray. Honey-finished wood floors ran throughout, with jewel-toned, geometrically patterned area rugs scattered about, and he had brightened it up by painting all the ceilings, trim, casework, and doors off-white to tie it all together. It was soothing and relaxing, and it was his.

 

Steve walked down the hall to the master bedroom, which was through the double doors at the end of the hall on the left side. He’d used exclusively dark woods to furnish, which looked incredible against the sage green walls; his bed linens were all in shades of cream and dove grey, and the area rug and curtains were dark greys and browns.

 

The master closet ran the entire length of the wall to the left of the doorway, and the master bathroom was around the corner to his right. He’d considered doing the tile and stonework himself, but after watching several how-to videos, he and Sam had decided that it was beyond their expertise. They had painted and put in the cabinets, but left the rest to the professionals. The light blue walls were in the same hue family as the sage green of his bedroom, and the cherry cabinets and white counters matched those in the kitchen and the guest bath. The extra-long soaker tub he had insisted on was white, but all the rest of the tile and stone, including those in the large walk-in shower, were in varied shades of grey. His towels and bath mats were a golden, sandy brown that Sam once joked matched his hair color.

 

He changed out of his work clothes, dropping his button-down shirt and slacks into the basket for the dry cleaners, and put on his favorite cotton lounge pants and old Dodgers t-shirt before padding barefoot back out to the kitchen to make something to eat. There was a baseball game on that he wanted to catch—the Dodgers were on an East Coast swing, so he would finally be able to see a game that didn’t end after one o’clock in the morning. It was hard being a fan of a West Coast team when you lived in New York—all their home games started so late he rarely stayed up to watch. Food in hand, he made his way to his favorite leather sofa and turned on the game, which was just starting the second inning. It was still 0-0, so he hadn’t missed anything yet.

 

It was during the commercial break between the third and fourth innings that his mind started to wander back, thinking about the man with the gorgeous smile. He wondered what color his eyes were, behind those bright blue sunglasses; were they a deep, soulful brown, so rich that you could feel yourself drowning in them, or were they blue, like the ocean, carrying you away on their sparkling waves? Maybe they were green, or hazel, or any combination of shades thereof.

 

And his hair…. Steve kept his hair cut fairly short on the sides, only slightly longer on top—for ease of maintenance being his official story, but the truth was that he thought he looked strange with longer hair. He didn’t think it fit his face very well. He’d always secretly envied men that were able to get away with longer locks, and the mystery man had hair that looked so soft that it practically invited your fingers to comb through it. Comb through, curl your fists in, tug on gently….

 

Steve took a deep breath and exhaled, pressing the palm of his hand into his crotch, willing his sudden semi to go back down. He knew it was silly (correction: ridiculous) to spend so much time thinking about someone he didn’t even know, had only seen for a few seconds, really, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t had a physical reaction to anyone like that in years; the man literally took his breath away.

 

He shook his head and tuned back in to the game. Top of the fourth inning, Dodgers had men on first and third, no outs. This was looking promising.

 

Later that night, when Steve took himself in hand and brought himself to a sharp, quick orgasm that made him stare at the ceiling, breathing hard and wide-eyed in wonder, he told himself he was celebrating a Dodger win, nothing else.

 


	2. But Your Hair Is Long and Brown

 

Over the course of the next week, Steve managed to convince himself that not only would he never see the man with the beautiful smile again, but also that the man’s smile could not possibly have been as beautiful as Steve remembered. Surely his brain was augmenting his memory, because his pulse still raced every time he thought of that heart-stopping grin. The answer to the problem was obvious, of course—he had to go back to the bookstore and hope the man was there, just to prove to himself that his memory was wrong.

 

With this ironclad logic in place, Steve grabbed Sam again (with his assistant’s profuse thanks) for another trip to Brooklyn.

 

As soon as they walked into the bookstore, Sam made a beeline for the café and Steve began to meander around the store, deciding to get a feel for the entire store this time and not just the comic section. The fact that he was hoping to see the gorgeous brunet as he wandered around was secondary. That’s what he told himself, anyway. So he walked around the perimeter of the store, seeing Mora again, who smiled and waved in recognition, before going upstairs to check out their non-fiction. He had found the art section, and was flipping through a book of Ryan Meinerding’s work, when he got a text message from Sam.

 

Sam Wilson: _Where R U?_

 

Me: _Upstairs, sorry, got distracted_

 

Sam Wilson: _IS HE UP THERE?_

 

Me: _No jackass I found the art section_

 

Me: _Be right down_

 

Steve put his phone in his pocket and, still holding the book he was looking at, walked over to the stairs to go back down to the first floor. He was halfway down the flight of stairs when a deep, throaty laugh caught his attention and he looked up.

 

And saw _him._

 

The man with the gorgeous smile.

 

The man with the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen. With the adorable dimple and the charming cleft chin and the soft-looking dark brown hair that was loose and wavy today and framing his absurdly gorgeous slightly-less unshaven face and was just brushing the tops of his shoulders and he looked so handsome that Steve couldn’t remember internal punctuation or even how to breathe for a few seconds.

 

He was wearing a grey, button-down shirt untucked over a pair of dark blue jeans that had clearly been designed by angels; that was the only way he could explain how the denim hugged his hips and thighs in such a way that Steve’s mouth watered. He had something of a swimmer’s build—long and lean with muscle, but not bulky. His sunglasses with the bright blue lenses were pushed up onto the top of his head, holding his chestnut brown hair back from his face, displaying his amazing cheekbones.

 

And his eyes. Steve could see his eyes now, sparkling with his laughter, and they were the prettiest eyes Steve had ever seen. Blue-grey, but lighter than his shirt, almost an icy silver, and framed by thick, dark, luscious lashes that actually cast shadows on his cheeks when he blinked.

 

Steve’s memory was not faulty, and had definitely not exaggerated. This man was everything beautiful, and….

 

And he was walking with his arm around a woman. A lovely young woman with long, golden brown hair, bright, hazel eyes, and a red leather jacket, who was looking fondly at the man beside her. And they were smiling and laughing and obviously very happy together as they walked toward the back of the bookstore.

 

Steve sighed. He’d been right. About everything. The man was just as beautiful as he had remembered, and he was definitely not single.

 

Steve continued down the stairs and, after purchasing the art book, headed for the café, where Sam was waiting at a table with a plate and a cup of coffee. “Hey,” he said, setting the bag on the table and taking a seat, sounding sad even to his own ears.

 

“What’s wrong, man?” Sam asked quietly, his brow furrowed. He slid over the plate of assorted pastries, and Steve picked up a tiny chocolate éclair.

 

Steve popped the delicate treat into his mouth and chewed slowly, savoring it. When he was done, he shook his head and said, “Nothing that about a dozen more of those can’t cure. That’s fantastic.” He pushed his chair back. “I’m going to get a coffee.”

 

Walking up to the counter, he gave his order to the man behind the counter. It wasn’t Clint today; it was a younger man with hair so blond that it was almost white on top, a dark, ashy brown underneath. He moved quickly, darting from station to station with almost startling efficiency. In seconds, Steve’s black coffee was in front of him, hot and aromatic. Steve paid for his drink and turned around. And his breath caught.

 

There he was, again, the gorgeous brunet, still with the most heart-achingly beautiful smile Steve had ever seen, torturing him with his unattainable presence. He kissed the woman with him on the cheek and he said, “Thanks, girlie. I’ll see you soon.” The raspy quality to his voice sent shivers down Steve’s spine.

 

She smiled at him and said, “Yes, you will, _dušo_ (honey). Take a look at the designs and call me.” With a final wave to each other, she turned, walked into the café, and headed for the counter, calling out to the blonde man working there. The brunet watched her for a couple of seconds, his hands in his jeans pockets, before suddenly locking eyes with Steve, who was still standing there, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

 

For several moments, they simply looked at each other; Steve, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, and the brunet, his smile getting bigger and bigger the longer they stared at each other. Finally, Steve blinked several times and shook his head, as if attempting to clear the fog. The brunet bit his bottom lip and dropped his eyes before looking at Steve again through his lashes, almost bashfully. Steve could feel the blush creeping up, but he just couldn’t look away. He was absolutely spellbound.

 

The brunet slowly took a couple of steps back and winked at Steve—he _winked_ at Steve!—with the biggest grin Steve had seen yet, so big that his nose scrunched adorably, before turning and walking deeper into the bookstore.

 

After a few stunned seconds, Steve broke out of his stupor and walked back over to Sam, who was still sitting at his table. He set the coffee cup down and sat silently for a few moments as his brain tried to figure out what had just happened. “Huh,” he said finally.

 

“What?” Sam asked, hand hovering over the plate, trying to decide which pastry to eat next.

 

“The guy,” Steve said absentmindedly. The guy…who perhaps _wasn’t_ involved with the lovely young woman in the red leather jacket?

 

“The guy?” Sam said, arching an eyebrow as he picked up a pear strudel. “What guy?”

 

“The brunet with the gorgeous smile,” Steve replied, a corner of his mouth creeping up a bit. “He was just here. He winked at me.”

 

Sam chewed and swallowed quickly before blurting out, “Really? Oh, my god, where is he?” He was craning his neck to look past Steve, trying to get a glimpse of the man that had just turned Steve’s world—and brain—upside-down.

 

“What are you—Sam! Stop it!” Steve hissed.

 

“Are you going to go talk to him?” Sam asked, looking like he was getting ready to squeal like a teenage girl.

 

“God! No!” Steve blurted out, horrified at the thought of even trying to link two intelligent words together in front of that beautiful boy.

 

“Steve,” Sam said incredulously. “Seriously?”

 

“Let me just…get my brain back in working order before I actually try to speak to him,” Steve grumbled, blushing to the tips of his ears.

 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “Alright, man,” he laughed, taking pity on Steve and reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. He looked at his watch then. “We need to get going soon, anyway. Let’s grab some goodies and head back to the office, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed, “but let me finish my coffee first.”

 

“You got it,” Sam agreed, pushing his chair back. Just then, a friendly and familiar voice rang out.

 

“Sam! Steve! You guys here again?” Clint said, smiling as he came in through a back door holding a large, bright red box in both hands.

 

“Hey, Clint!” Sam greeted him, walking up to the counter.

 

Clint turned to the blonde man beside him. “Thanks, Pietro. See you in the morning?”

 

“Absolutely,” the man said, his voice lilting in an accent that sounded Eastern European. He walked around the counter to join the woman in the red leather jacket. “Have a good night,” he called out over his shoulder, and the two walked out, chatting happily in a language that Steve didn’t recognize.

 

“You two have great timing,” Clint smiled at Sam and Steve as he opened the red box that he had set on the counter. It was full of fresh pastries, and Sam’s whoop of joy had the other two men laughing.

 

“We’re gonna need a lot of that to go,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

 

“Anything in particular?” Clint asked, pulling out carefully stacked trays of tarts and scones.

 

“How about a couple of everything you’ve got in there?” Sam said, pulling out his wallet. “We’re taking it back to the office to share.”

 

“He’ll share whatever’s left over after the ride back,” Steve laughed. Sam gasped in false outrage, then started laughing when he couldn’t fake it any more.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I might have one or two,” Sam acquiesced.

 

After filling up a smaller red box and giving them two coffees for the road (“On the house, gentlemen,” Clint said), Sam and Steve headed for the exit.

 

“See you next week!” Sam called out with a wave.

 

“We’ll be here!” Clint replied, smiling.

 

It wasn’t until they were halfway to his car that Steve stopped short. “Dang it, I forgot to ask if the manager was in,” he said, laughing at himself and shaking his head. He balanced the box and the shopping bag in one hand and fished his cars keys out of his pocket with the other.

 

“You really do need to get your brain unscrambled before you try to talk to your lover boy,” Sam teased, holding the two coffee cups.

 

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be as smooth as you,” Steve groused, unlocking his car door and getting in.

 

“That’s true,” Sam grinned. He waited for a few seconds and then said, “Uh, Steve, can you open my door?”

 

***

 

After dropping Wanda off with Pietro, Bucky wandered around the store for the next several minutes, completely unable to wipe the silly grin off his face. He couldn’t believe he had winked at that ridiculously attractive guy in the café. _Damn, that man was gorgeous,_ Bucky sighed to himself. The big, astonishingly bright blue eyes, the short, dark golden blond hair, that beard, just long enough to run his fingers through, framing those lush lips, and those arms and shoulders—he could easily imagine those wrapped around him, surrounding him with incredibly hot and undoubtedly good-smelling masculinity. He hadn’t seen anyone that had affected him like that in, like, ever. His heart had literally fluttered in his chest when he locked eyes with the beautiful blond man, and from the way he had been looking at Bucky in return, maybe Bucky hadn’t been the only one feeling a little fluttery.

 

Bucky was tidying up the Children’s section, humming happily to himself when a cheerful voice broke through his musings.

 

“Hey, Buck-a-doodle, did you see him?” Peter strolled down the aisle, putting two copies of a new release on the shelf.

 

Bucky looked up, alarmed. “Him who?” he asked, the familiar feelings of dread and anxiety starting to creep in.

 

Peter looked over at him, frowning in confusion, before understanding dawned on him. “No, not that douchebag,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “I wouldn’t bother telling you about him—I’d just ram my foot up his ass and then scrape him off outside the alley door.”

 

Bucky huffed a laugh, more relieved than he’d like to admit. “Ew, but thanks. So what guy are you talking about?”

 

“He was in here last week, looking at the CGN section,” Peter said. “He wanted to talk to you about it. Big, blonde, beefy, shaped like a Dorito. I just saw him a few minutes ago, thought maybe he’d caught you this time.”

 

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes. “Big and blonde? Does he have a beard?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the guy,” Peter replied with a big smile. “So he talked to you?”

 

“No, but I’m pretty sure I saw him,” Bucky answered, feeling his heart beating faster.

 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, he’s hard to miss, dude’s built like a brick house. His name is…starts with an ‘S’…S-S-S-Stan? Sam? No! Steve, that was it. Steve. Nice guy. _Really_ into comics.”

 

Bucky shook his head slightly, smiling. There was no way that big, gorgeous hunk of (probably very good-smelling) man was into comics the way Bucky was. Fate had never been particularly kind to Bucky, and even the thought that an unbelievably attractive guy who liked comics would also be into Bucky was more than he was willing to entertain.

 

After they finished cleaning, the two men walked out of the Children’s section, and they looked up to see Steve and Sam exiting with a shopping bag, a red pastry box, and two cups of coffee, waving to Clint as they walked out the door.

 

Peter pointed. “Hey, there he is!”

 

Bucky watched the retreating figure as the door shut behind them. “Yeah,” he sighed, a little dreamily. “That’s him all right.”

 

Peter looked over at him, his head turning as the expression that Clint called the _AWW YEAH_ face slowly took over. “Dude, you like him!” he whisper-shouted.

 

“I don’t even know him,” Bucky said determinedly. “I’ll admit that we might have stared briefly at each other earlier, and that I might have winked at him, and that he’s absolutely gorgeous, probably smells like sunshine, might be able to split logs with his bare hands, and that I wouldn’t mind watching him do pull-ups for hours, but that’s all.”

 

“Go talk to him!” Peter said, motioning him toward the door.

 

Bucky looked at him flatly. “I’m not going to chase him down the street like a weirdo stalker, Pete.”

 

“Go ask Clint if he’s nice.”

 

“I’m not going to ask Clint if he’s nice. That’s juvenile and…no. Besides,” Bucky sighed again, less dreamily this time, “even if he does hang out on my side of the fence, he’s probably dating that guy he’s with right now. Regardless, he’s seriously out of my league.”

 

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re joking, right?” When Bucky’s only response was to shrug, Peter frowned at him and said, “Bucky—I’m hot.”

 

Bucky stopped. “Ooookay?” he said, smiling in confusion.

 

Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation before explaining. “Bucky. I am hot. Therefore, I can recognize hotness in others. You, my _amigo,_ are _muy caliente. En fuego,_ truth be told. You and Steve the Dorito are in equivalent leagues. You have no reason not to go after that.”

 

Bucky shook his head sadly. “Maybe in another life, Pete. I wouldn’t want to drag anyone into my train wreck of an existence right now.”

 

“Oh, no, Bucky, no, no, no,” Peter said, shaking his head and squeezing Bucky’s right shoulder firmly. “Don’t let that shithead do this to you. Don’t let him steal space in your head. Your life is _not_ a train wreck. You are a great guy, and everyone that knows you loves you, because you’re totally fucking lovable.”

 

Bucky laughed. He really did have great friends. “Yeah, okay, watch the language in the store, Pete.”

 

Peter clapped him on the shoulder and grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Boss Man Buck. Odds are looking pretty good that Steve will be back next week, so think about talking to him. Anyway, it’s about time for me to clock out. I’m gonna make dinner for Mora. Enchiladas tonight!”

 

“Sounds good,” Bucky said. Mexican food did sound good. “Just remember to use corn tortillas this time.”

 

Peter saluted him with a grin as he took several steps backward, then turned and headed for the office to clock out.

 

Bucky turned to look at the front of the store, wondering if Big, Blonde, Beefy, Beautiful Steve would be back in a week—and if he did come back, would he be brave enough to talk to him?

 

***

 

“So Pierce’s assistant called me, if you can believe it,” Steve told Sam on their way back to the office. “Wanted to set up an appointment so we could talk about Pierce and H.O.H. becoming a majority investor in SHIELD.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Sam asked, shock all over his face. “Number one, they should not be calling you, they should be calling _me_ —it’s my name and number on the legal correspondence. Number two, who does that asshole—“

 

“Sam,” Steve said disapprovingly, but Sam barged on.

 

“—think he is? I made it more than clear that you were not interested in talking to him in any way, shape, or form. This is _not_ how business is done.” Sam was fuming, the box in his hands shaking in his agitation.

 

“Calm down, Sam,” Steve said, unperturbed . “I told the assistant—Renata Garcia, her name was—that I was not even remotely interested in talking to Pierce about anything, _ever,_ and that he should lose my name and number and never bother me again.”

 

“Good,” Sam said, nodding. “Make sure you get me all the details of the call—the time, date, assistant’s name, what was said, all of it. I need to document everything, because this is definitely moving into harassment territory.”

 

“Gotcha,” Steve said. He glanced sideways at Sam. “Are you stress eating over there?”

 

Sam attempted to surreptitiously lick the chocolate off his fingers. “Maybe.”

 

Steve snickered under his breath. “We’ll be there in five minutes, tops. Try to leave some for everyone else.”

 

They arrived just shy of four minutes later, and Sam had managed to eat only one more pastry, before demanding that Steve take the box away from him. “I can’t decide if those are the best things I’ve ever discovered or the worst,” Sam grumbled. “I need to get to the gym more.”

 

They walked into the office, and were happily surprised to see a good friend there. “Tony!” Steve called out, smiling. “What brings you to our humble offices?”

 

Tony, despite being the richest person Steve knew and the CEO of StarkTech, a multi-billion-dollar corporation founded by his father, was one of the most down-to-earth people Steve had ever met. They had become friends in middle school, despite their vastly different upbringings, and Tony was a huge reason that Steve managed to keep up with his schoolwork through all of his illnesses. Tony made sure that Steve understood the classwork, tutoring him when necessary, shuttling homework back and forth for him when he was too sick to attend, and helping him study for tests.

 

Steve had asked Tony once, when they were in high school, why he was his friend, since he really had nothing to offer; Tony had looked at him in utter confusion and said, “Steve, you are one of the only truly good people I’ve ever known. Any time I’ve thought about doing something stupid, your voice is the one I hear in my head reminding me to do the right thing. I am incredibly fortunate to be able to count you as one of my best friends.”

 

While Steve wasn’t sure why he, of all people, was the angel on Tony’s shoulder, he at least learned to stop questioning it. They, with Sam and later Peggy, had remained steadfast friends through thick and thin, good times and bad, and he would never doubt the reasons for their friendship and loyalty ever again—he would simply be grateful for it.

 

“Technically,” Tony grinned, answering Steve’s question, “it’s my humble office, which you are leasing. However, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”

 

“Really?” Steve asked, his eyebrow arched.

 

“What? I can’t come by, say hello to my friends? I have to have a reason?” Tony asked, feigning offense. He looked at the red box in Steve’s hands. “Ooh, what’s that?”

 

“The best damn pastries you’ve ever had,” Sam said, coming around from behind Steve and heading to the washroom. “Please keep them away from me, I’ve already had too many of them today.”

 

“Are those the ones from the bookstore?” Peter asked, his head peeking out from behind his cubicle wall.

 

“They are,” Steve said. “I’m putting them over by the coffee maker.”

 

So Steve, Sam, and Tony sat in their little, windowless conference room and chatted, people occasionally coming by to thank them for bringing the box of goodies in. Peggy walked in with a scone and a cup of tea, shaking her head as she took a seat. “This is the best damn scone I’ve had since I left London fifteen years ago. You got this is Brooklyn?”

 

Sam explained that the maker, Red Room Pastries, delivered to the bookstore that they had been visiting, and that she also delivered to a few restaurants.

 

“Next time you’re there, ask if she makes clotted cream and jam, as well. I’d like to order some for the next time my parents visit,” Peggy said.

 

“’Clotted cream,’” Tony said, shuddering. “God, that sounds horrible.”

 

“It’s delicious, you uncultured beast,” Peggy retorted, smiling.

 

“I’ll try to remember,” Steve said, smiling at his friends.

 

“Put a note in your calendar,” Sam said, poking Steve’s shoulder. “You know you’re going back next week.”

 

“Is this becoming a weekly tradition?” Peggy asked, her eyebrows arching with interest.

 

“It’s not just the pastries that keep him going back,” Sam muttered, yelping when Steve smacked him. “Ow! Geez, man, I’m kidding,” he laughed, defending himself from additional brutality.

 

“Is there something else there that has captured your interest?” Peggy inquired, her eyes lighting up with mischief. “Or perhaps…some _one_?”

 

“Dammit, Sam, you told?” Steve said, annoyed, because _really?_

 

“Oh, no, Sam didn’t tell me anything,” Peggy said excitedly. “But you certainly just did. Who is it?”

 

Tony looked around the table. “God, it’s like we’re in high school again,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“It’s not—I mean, I don’t—he’s not—” Steve stammered, getting redder by the second.

 

“Oh, my goodness, this is adorable,” Peggy said, fanning herself. “Who is this man that has turned you into such a rambling mess?”

 

Steve exhaled then, dropping his face into his hands. “Guys,” he moaned, “it’s nothing. He’s just someone that we think works at the bookstore. He’s been there both times, I don’t know his name, but,” Steve sighed wistfully, “he has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, and…yeah, he’s gorgeous.”

 

“Please tell me he’s at least eighteen,” Tony said seriously.

 

“God, Tony, of course he is!” Steve said, equally horrified and exasperated. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s probably mid-twenties. Shoulder-length, dark brown hair, big, blue-grey eyes, long eyelashes, just…beautiful,” Steve sighed again, shaking his head, “and totally out of my league.”

 

“ _What?_ ” a chorus of indignant voices shouted.

 

Sam recovered first, asking in utter confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Come on, guys,” Steve said, a little dejectedly. “I’m in my thirties, I write comic books for a living—“

 

“Stop. Right. There,” Peggy said angrily. “This isn’t you talking, this is—this is _her_ in your head right now, and that is unacceptable.” She shook her head, muttering, “I hate that she shares my last name.”

 

“Damn right, it’s unacceptable,” Tony said, his eyes flashing. “You’re an artist, Steve. You create things that make people happy, and very few people in the world today can do that or even bother to try. You should be proud of what you do—lord knows _I’m_ proud of you.”

 

“We all are,” Sam said quietly. “You’ve worked hard to get here, Steve, and had to fight through a lot. We believe in you—always have, always will. Your mom believed in you with everything she had—do you think she was wrong?”

 

Steve took a deep breath. “No,” he exhaled, shaking his head, a half-smile on his face. “She may have been biased, but she wasn’t wrong.” He looked around at his friends. “Thanks, guys.”

 

“And, if you’ll allow me to say it, you’re quite a catch,” Peggy said fondly. “You are kind, thoughtful, incredibly intelligent, and rather handsome to boot. If you’re attracted to this man, say something to him.”

 

“That’s what I said!” Sam exclaimed. “The guy winked at you, for crying out loud! People don’t do that if they’re not at least a little interested.”

 

“That’s it,” Tony said, slapping his leg. “Next time you go, we’re all coming with you.”

 

“No,” Steve gasped, eyes wide in horror. “No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

 

“Fine,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll go separately, check him out on our own, ask deeply personal and invasive questions, the whole bit.”

 

“I hate you guys,” Steve said, shaking his head and laughing.

 

“We wouldn’t be family if you didn’t,” Sam grinned.

 

***

 

Bucky walked into the bookstore office, finding Nick waiting there. “Hey, Nick, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully.

 

“Better today,” Nick answered, leaning on his cane. “Knee’s not so bad since the weather started cooling down some. How are you doing?”

 

“Great,” Bucky responded, smiling. “Got the new SHIELD display all set up, it looks fantastic.”

 

“It does look good,” Nick agreed. “Pietro and Wanda did a nice job on that.”

 

“Yeah, they did.” Bucky picked up a printout of upcoming releases. “Lots of new stuff coming out for the holidays,” he said, looking at the list. “Space is going to be tight.”

 

“You’ll figure it out,” Nick said unconcernedly, making Bucky snort. “I did want to talk to you about something, if you have a minute.”

 

“Sure,” Bucky said, “what do you need?”

 

“I spoke to Alexander Pierce yesterday,” Nick said, and Bucky froze, his heart thudding in his chest. “I know you told me not to worry about it,” Nick continued, “but Rumlow has been bothering you and I don’t like it.”

 

Bucky swallowed, the lump in his throat practically choking him.

 

“Has he threatened you at all?” Nick asked, trying to be calm, when what he really wanted was to find this Brock Rumlow asshole and beat the hell out of him with his cane. “Because talking is one thing; annoying, but not necessarily illegal. Threatening you is something else and I won’t tolerate it.”

 

“No, not in so many words,” Bucky finally managed to say. “He’s just being a jerk, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

 

Nick tilted his head, looking at Bucky quietly. Nick could look incredibly intimidating if he wanted to—the eye patch, the visible scarring, the stare that could make the strongest of men cower. But to Bucky, he had only ever been kind and a little (okay, a lot) overprotective.

 

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” Nick said. “If you need help—and there’s nothing wrong with that—all you need to do is tell me. I’m here for you.”

 

“Thanks, Nick,” Bucky said, smiling sadly. “I hate that this has become a problem for you.”

 

“It’s not a problem for me,” Nick assured him. “Taking care of my family is never a problem. Regardless,” he said, “I told Pierce that Rumlow had better leave you be. He’s got other delivery people—send one of them here instead.”

 

Bucky brightened at that thought. It would be such a relief if he didn’t have to deal with Brock at all anymore. “That would be great,” he said, a more genuine smile appearing.

 

Nick nodded. “Believe me, I wish we didn’t have to deal with Pierce or H.O.H. at all—something about that guy just really rubs me the wrong way. But,” he said, straightening up, “we can’t always choose the people we have to deal with.”

 

“Everything will be fine,” Bucky said optimistically. “Thanks, Nick. Really.”

 

Nicky slapped him on the back of his right shoulder. “Not a problem, son.”

 

That evening, after locking up and walking out to the parking lot with Clint, Bucky began to think about not having to see Brock at work anymore—and then he thought about the gorgeous blond ( _Steve, Pete said his name was Steve,_ Bucky thought to himself), that looked like he might be interested in getting to know Bucky a little better.

 

Things could quite possibly be looking up. Maybe Fate was finally giving Bucky a break for once.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Thank Yous to everyone for the comments and kudos! I'm all fluttery at the positive reaction this story has received so far. :D
> 
> Constructive comments and suggestions are always welcome!
> 
> Any rifts in the space-time continuum are the property of Google+. XD


	3. Your Legs Are Strong, and You're So, So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our dorks finally meet! For real, this time. :D

 

The next Wednesday, Bucky took a little extra care when he got ready for work. If Pete was right, this would be the day that Stevie (Bucky only called him that in his head. Shut up.) would be coming by the bookstore again. He was actually nervous, which was totally ridiculous. He almost felt like he was going on a blind date; except he knew what Steve looked like, Steve had no idea who he was, and this wasn’t a date.

 

He had spent several hours at work the day before getting the new releases into the CGN section, setting it up the way he wanted it, with the new SHIELD issues put onto the display. A lot of the new material he had ordered had come in over the past week, and Bucky was very happy with how the section was shaping up. If Steve really was into comics, Bucky was going to make damn sure there was plenty for them to talk about. If Steve was even remotely interested in Bucky, well, hopefully this would help break the ice. Having a common interest was always a good place to start.

 

So Bucky was wearing his favorite black skinny jeans, the ones that Clint said looked like they were ‘painted on by gay angels,’ his black boots, and his dark red Henley, which Nat said brought out the auburn highlights in his hair, the rosiness in his cheeks, and the icy blue in his eyes. It was his perfect color, she said, and he wasn’t going to argue with her. He had shaved a couple of days earlier, but he made sure his stubble was neat and not too scruffy. Luckily, Nick wasn’t fussy about facial hair, as long as it was clean. Lastly, he styled his hair in that way that looked effortless, yet took forever, and carefully flossed and brushed his teeth.

 

He walked down the hallway, past the stairs that led to the second floor, and out to the kitchen, where Nat was already baking for the afternoon deliveries. “Hey there, handsome,” she said, watching him as he walked through.

 

“Hi, Nat,” he replied, kissing her on the cheek on his way by. “I’m closing tonight, so I probably won’t see you before you go to bed. Have a good day, okay?”

 

“You, too,” she said slowly. Before he made it out of the kitchen, she asked suddenly, “Do you have a date tonight?”

 

He whirled around, eyes wide. “What? No! No, of course I don’t. I’d tell you if I had a date. Probably.” He paused and took a breath, as she watched him, one eyebrow creeping ever higher. He cringed a bit. “Why do you ask?”

 

“You’re incredibly good-looking every day, of course,” she said, her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, “but you look especially well put-together today, like you made an effort to look really good. Because you do look _really_ good today.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky responded, blushing and trying not to smile. If Nat said he looked good, he could be confident that he did; Nat was brutally honest in that way. In every way, really. “Thanks, Nat.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled at him. “Go get him, tiger.”

 

“There’s no date, Nat!” he called out as he headed to the door.

 

“Not yet, maybe,” Nat mumbled under her breath with a smile, “but the day is still young.”

 

***

 

Sam stood outside Steve’s Super-Cube, as he called it—“It’s too big to be a cubicle, but it’s not really an office. It’s an unholy hybrid of the two.”—rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Ready for our weekly field trip?” he asked, his eyes bright and happy.

 

Steve sighed. “I don’t know, Sam,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking at his best friend.

 

Sam recognized the insecure look in Steve’s eyes. “What are you thinking, man?” he said, curling his fingers toward his palm in a beckoning gesture. “Come on, tell me.”

 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “What if he’s there?” he asked quietly. “If he’s there, I’ll have to talk to him, because if I don’t, he’ll think I’m not interested in him. I’ll have to talk to him, and…” he trailed off, his head falling back to rest against his chair. “What if I make an ass of myself?”

 

“Steve,” Sam said softly, leaning against his cubicle-opening-slash-doorway. “Making an ass of yourself is what meeting new people is all about.”

 

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “ _Great,_ thanks. I feel _so_ much better about this.”

 

Sam was laughing, too. “What I mean, is that you are always so careful when you meet people for the first time; so worried about what you say and how you act. The first time you made real eye contact with your mystery lover boy, you were struck completely speechless and walked around in a daze for, like, five minutes—just because he winked at you.” Sam shook his head. “Don’t think about it so much. Don’t worry about saying ‘the right thing,’ or acting ‘the right way.’ Just be honest, because if anything is going to come of this, it should be because he likes the _real_ you, not because you’re trying to be what you think he wants.”

 

“So I should hope he’s attracted to artistic, kind of shy, socially awkward types?” Steve laughed.

 

Sam just looked at him fondly. “I’ve known the real you for a long time, Steve, and I can honestly say that you are definitely someone worth knowing.”

 

Steve smiled up at him, truly grateful for such a good friend. “Thanks, Sam.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Sam smiled. Then he clapped his hands and said, “Now get your ass up and let’s go. I don’t want to miss the afternoon delivery.”

 

After walking around, getting requests from people for pastries—and a reminder from Peggy to ask about clotted cream—Sam and Steve walked out the door, heading for Brooklyn. They made good time that day, not hitting any major traffic, and even found parking on the same block as the bookstore.

 

As soon as they walked in, Sam poked his head into the café and asked “Has the afternoon delivery arrived yet?”

 

Pietro was behind the counter again, and he looked up with a big grin. “Clint is bringing it in right now,” he said in his melodious European accent.

 

“Timing is everything, my man,” Sam said, walking up to the counter. “I want first crack at it when he walks in.” He looked over his shoulder at Steve. “You want coffee?”

 

“In a few minutes,” he replied distractedly, his eyes wandering over the rest of the bookstore. “I’m going to check out the comics section.”

 

“You do that,” Sam said, grinning, “I’ll be here.”

 

Steve walked slowly down the center aisle, his eyes darting back and forth, his heart pounding. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought to himself. _He’s probably not even here._ He stopped briefly to look at the new fiction releases and bestsellers before continuing into the store. He nearly collided with Pete, who was coming around a corner with a stack of books in his hands.

 

“Hey, man!” Pete said cheerfully. “Steve, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve grinned, nodding. “Good memory. Pete, right?”

 

“Got it in one,” Pete replied happily. “Checking out the graphic novels section?”

 

“Headed back that way, yeah,” Steve said.

 

“James, our manager, spent a few hours on it yesterday. We got lots of new material in—it looks great,” Pete gushed.

 

“Can’t wait to see it,” Steve said, smiling.

 

“Oh, hey—did you ever get to talk to him?” Pete asked, _very_ nonchalantly.

 

“Um, no, unfortunately,” Steve said with a sheepish half-smile. “Never seemed to catch him.”

 

“He’s here now, I could send him over. I know he would _love_ to talk to someone else who digs that stuff as much as he does,” Pete offered, the very picture of helpful innocence.

 

“Sounds great,” poor, unsuspecting Steve said. “If he’s got a few minutes to talk, I’d really like that.”

 

“Awesome,” Pete responded, smiling from ear-to-ear. “I will send him _right_ over.”

 

***

 

Bucky had been having a pretty good day so far, all things considered. Most of the deliveries came early, including the one from H.O.H. A different delivery guy had come this time, which had made Bucky very happy. The guy wasn’t the least bit friendly—according to the paperwork, his name was Jack Rollins—and guessing from the complete lack of conversation and the occasional sideways look, he was probably a friend of Brock’s, but Bucky couldn’t have cared less. He mentioned the new delivery guy to Nick when he saw him next, and Nick had simply nodded and smiled, and patted Bucky on the shoulder as he went by.

 

Bucky was just finishing up making sure some new releases for non-fiction were all displayed properly on the second floor when Pete strolled up the stairs, a dreamy smile on his face. “Hey, Bucky,” he drawled.

 

He looked up quizzically. “Hi, Pete. You okay?”

 

“I’m fantastic,” he said, his voice all slow and syrupy smooth. “I’m about to watch the greatest love story ever told unfold right before my very eyes.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bucky asked, now getting concerned. Had Pete been drinking on his lunch hour?

 

“There’s a certain someone in the Comics and Graphic Novels section—a certain big, blond, beefy, bearded, Dorito-shaped someone named Steve—who would just _love_ to talk to the store manager about all the new material that just came in,” Pete replied, batting his eyelashes.

 

“Oh, my god,” Bucky said, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster. “He’s here.”

 

“He is,” Pete nodded, “and he wants to talk to _you_. So get your ridiculously good-looking ass—and it really does look good in those jeans—down there and talk to him.”

 

“Fuck,” Bucky swore under his breath. “Okay,” he said louder, pushing his hair away from his face and smoothing out his shirt. “I can do this.”

 

“Of course, you can,” Pete said sincerely. “You’re just talking about books. And this guy—Steve? He really does seem like a nice guy. Just be yourself.”

 

Bucky smiled, taking a deep breath before looking at his friend. “Thanks, Pete.”

 

“Alright, then,” Pete said, slapping his backside. “Go get him, tiger!”

 

“You and Nat are not allowed to hang out any more,” Bucky said over his shoulder, walking to the stairs, as Pete cackled behind him.

 

Silently praying that he could get through this without making a complete ass of himself, Bucky walked down to the first floor and turned toward the comics section.

 

***

 

Steve was admiring the SHIELD display, which held the most recent releases of every title they published, when a deep, deliciously raspy, and slightly amused voice behind him said softly, “So Steve, I understand that you wanted to speak to the manager.”

 

Steve’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack as the voice washed over him. _No. Way._

 

He turned slowly and took in the man standing before him, looking so gorgeous that Steve couldn’t even speak; the long legs clad in black skinny jeans that hugged _dear god_ everything, the dark red shirt that made his eyes glow icy blue, the tousled, soft-looking dark brown hair, the perfectly scruffy jawline, the dimple, and the smile— _fuck,_ that smile—that made Steve weak in the knees.

 

“It’s you,” Steve said several seconds later, finally managing to get his brain re-started enough to spit out two intelligible words.

 

“It’s me,” Bucky said, leaning against a bookshelf with his hands in his back pockets, grinning at Steve’s stunned expression.

 

“You’re James,” Steve said, understanding slowly making its way through his muddled consciousness, and he began to smile in return.

 

“I am, though my friends call me Bucky,” he replied, straightening up and taking a couple of steps forward.

 

“Hi, Bucky,” Steve said softly, almost like a sigh, and that was that.

 

Bucky was officially and totally smitten.

 

“Hi, Steve,” Bucky answered, sounding maybe just a tiny bit breathless. Lord have mercy, this man was a dream. He checked every box that made Bucky’s heart race—and even a few that Bucky hadn’t known about. Maybe five or six inches taller than Bucky, big, broad shoulders, arms like cannons, ridiculously tiny waist, and _oh yeah,_ Bucky had gotten a good look at his ass when he walked over, and the dark grey dress slacks did nothing to downplay the firm roundness contained therein. He was wearing a French blue, button-down shirt that barely contained his muscles and made his bright blue eyes pop, he had dark, sandy-gold blond hair that Bucky wanted to run his fingers through; a shy and adorable smile framed by luscious, full lips, just enough dark blond beard to leave a good burn after making out for hours—

 

_Okay, hold up,_ Bucky thought to himself, almost shivering as his thoughts wandered. _We’ve said a dozen words to each other, time to dial it back a little._

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Steve said quietly. “Properly, I mean, rather than, um…” he trailed off, his cheeks reddening slightly.

 

_This man could not be any more ridiculously goddamn adorable if he tried,_ Bucky thought. “Rather than just staring at each other across the café?” he asked, chuckling.

 

“Yeah,” Steve grinned, still seemingly bashful about the whole thing. He took a deep breath. “So, um, Pete tells me that you’re the one responsible for everything in this section,” Steve said, trying not to lose all self-control and just wrap this gorgeous man up in his arms.

 

“I am,” Bucky grinned happily, and Steve had to hold on to a shelf just to keep himself upright. “I took over as manager from Nick, the owner, and I told him I wanted to expand this area. He told me to have at it.”

 

“Nick is still the owner?” Steve asked curiously.

 

“Yes, he is, but he had knee surgery a few months ago, and it’s not healing as well as he’d hoped,” Bucky explained. “It’s hard for him to be on his feet all day.”

 

“Ah,” Steve nodded. “I hope it gets better. The few times I’ve run into him I really liked him.”

 

“Have you been coming in to BHB for long?” Bucky asked, because he knew that he would have noticed Steve before now if that were the case.

 

“I actually saw Nick at publishing conferences, local writer conventions, that kind of thing,” Steve said.

 

“Oh, you’re in publishing?” Bucky asked, obviously interested.

 

“Um, yeah,” Steve smiled, blushing. “Comics and graphic novels, specifically.”

 

“They’re great, aren’t they?” Bucky said, excitedly. “I’ve been a fan since I was a teenager, and these,” he said, gesturing to the SHIELD Publications display, “are my favorites. The artwork, the writing, the quality—as far as I’m concerned—are the best around. This guy,” Bucky pointed to the signature on the corner of the current _Captain America_ cover, “Steven G. Rogers, there is no one better. He’s only been publishing for about ten years, and his creativity and imagination just blow me away. His characters, even though many of them are super-human, are entirely believable and relatable. His work is what really got me hooked.”

 

“That’s, uh, that’s really nice to hear,” Steve said, unable to stop smiling or blushing to the tips of his ears.

 

“So who is your favorite writer?” Bucky asked, and just as Steve was about to answer, a voice broke in.

 

“Steve, man, the apple tarts today are unbelievable,” Sam said, coming around the corner, stopping short when he saw the two men in front of him. “Oh, hi there,” he said to Bucky, offering his hand and a big grin. When Bucky shook it, he said, “I’m Sam.”

 

“Hi, Sam, I’m Bucky,” Bucky replied, smiling. Taking a breath, he said, “Steve and I were just talking about our favorite comic writers.”

 

“No wonder Steve’s blushing,” Sam chuckled. “Dude never could take a compliment.”

 

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, confused. Beside him, Steve was giving Sam the _OH MY GOD SHUT UP_ face.

 

Being thoroughly unimpressed with, and totally ignoring, Steve’s face, Sam looked at Bucky. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

 

“Tell me…what?” Bucky asked, looking between the two men, feeling more than a little bewildered.

 

“Okay, Sam, why don’t you get a box of pastries to go for the office, and I’ll meet you in the café?” Steve said, glaring daggers.

 

“Okay, okay,” Sam laughed. “I’ll see you up there. Nice to meet you, Bucky. That’s an awesome name, by the way.”

 

Bucky smiled, still puzzled. “Um, thanks. Nice to meet you, too, Sam.” Once Sam had left for the café, Bucky turned back to Steve. “What didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I hate him so much,” Steve sighed, looking at his feet, his whole face bright red.

 

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what he was referring to,” Bucky laughed, wondering how far down that blush went.

 

“No, probably not,” Steve agreed, smiling. He exhaled forcefully. “Okay. Um, yeah. My last name is Rogers,” Steve said, shrugging. “That’s what he was talking about.”

 

“Rogers. Steve Rogers,” Bucky said, before his eyes suddenly popped wide open and his jaw dropped. “Steven G. Rogers? _You_ are Steven G. Rogers?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly, looking at his feet, almost afraid to meet Bucky’s eyes.

 

“Are you kidding? I was standing here, going on and on about how amazing your work is, and you weren’t going to tell me?” Bucky asked, stunned.

 

“I didn’t mean—I just—I wanted—ugh,” Steve rambled, tripping over his own words. His shoulders fell slightly. Taking a breath and rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “I was hoping to talk to you a little bit more before that came out.”

 

“Why?” Bucky asked, his brow slightly furrowed.

 

“Because I’m not going to assume, that just because you like my books, it automatically means that you’re interested in talking to me,” his said quietly.

 

“Oh,” Bucky said softly, his heart melting a little. Seeing Steve’s unsure expression, he said, “Well, Steve, if it makes any difference, I am definitely interested in talking to you, and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you’re one of my favorite writers. That’s just a happy surprise.”

 

Steve looked up hesitantly, a little glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

 

Bucky grinned and nudged him with his shoulder. “Yeah.”

 

A little smile crept up on him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to continue this conversation, maybe over some coffee?” Steve asked.

 

“Don’t you need to go back to work?” Bucky asked teasingly, smirking.

 

“Um, yeah, but I could come by later?” Steve said, then cringed. “Sorry, I’m being—“

 

“I’m closing tonight, but I get a half hour break at around seven o’clock,” Bucky said, smiling and biting his bottom lip.

 

Steve’s face lit up, and Bucky practically dropped to his knees right there. This man was beyond scrumptious and Bucky wanted to eat him up.

 

“I’ll be here,” Steve said, grinning widely. He backed away a couple of steps. “I’ll see you later, Bucky,” he said quietly.

 

“See ya, Stevie,” Bucky replied, before suddenly slapping his hand over his mouth. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’m sorry,” he said, laughing at himself.

 

“That’s okay. I, um, I like it,” Steve said, his eyes sparkling. He lifted his hand in a small wave. ”Seven o’clock.”

 

“See you then,” Bucky said happily, waving back.

 

Steve backed up a few more steps, smiling widely, before he shook his head, just a little, sighed wistfully, and turned to leave the bookstore. Once he was out of sight, Bucky’s eyes rolled back dramatically and he fell to his knees, dropping his face into his hands and moaning softly, “ _Oh, my god, he’s so beautiful._ ”

 

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, that was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life!” Pete squealed, rushing over a few seconds later. “You’re like two awkward puppies, wrestling and drooling and wanting to lick each other all over!”

 

“Shut up, Pete!” Bucky hissed, laughing. He rolled over onto his back, his hands flat on his chest over his heart. “He’s so sweet,” he sighed.

 

Pete sat down beside him. “So what’s the plan, my man?”

 

Bucky looked at him, upside-down, a huge grin on his face. “He’s coming back at seven o’clock. We’re getting coffee.”

 

“Woo! Yay, Bucky!” Pete shouted, throwing victory hands up into the air.

 

“Shut up, Pete!” Bucky laughed again, rolling over again onto his knees, swatting Pete repeatedly. Pete squawked, defending himself from the barrage.

 

“Um, guys?” they heard, and they looked up to see Mora at the end of the aisle.

 

“Yeah, uh, hi, Mora,” Bucky said sheepishly, getting to his feet, smoothing out his clothes and hair. Pete jumped up next to him, grinning happily.

 

“Are you responsible for all the giddy laughter I’m hearing all over the store?” she asked, smiling at Bucky’s flushed cheeks.

 

“Oh, geez, were we being really loud?” Bucky asked, cringing.

 

“It’s not just you,” she said, fighting back her own laughter. “Listen.”

 

Bucky and Pete both stopped, tilting their heads. They could hear someone squealing and giggling, so they walked to the center aisle and looked toward the front door. There was Sam, bouncing on his toes and clapping his hands around a box of pastries, and Steve, bright red and trying to shush him and shove him out the door at the same time, holding two cups of coffee.

 

“He is _just_ the cutest,” Pete whispered.

 

“Yeah, he really is,” Bucky sighed as Steve turned to look at him, grinning and blushing. And they had a date at seven o’clock. Well, kind of a date.

 

***

 

When Steve walked into the café, Sam was waiting there, practically bursting. “Dude, oh, my god, he is _so_ damn cute— _please_ tell me you asked him out!”

 

“Keep your voice down, Sam,” Steve begged, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face.

 

“Here you go, guys,” Clint said, walking toward them and sliding the red box and two to-go coffee cups across the counter.

 

“Thanks, Clint,” Steve said, swiping his credit card. Passing the red box to Sam, Steve picked up the coffee cups and said, “We’ll see you soon.”

 

“Have a great day,” Clint said, waving them out with a smile.

 

Before getting out the door, Sam turned to Steve. “Well? Did you or did you not ask him out?”

 

Just then, they heard a man’s voice yell, “Woo! Yay, Bucky!”

 

Steve froze, his lips clamped together as he tried not to smile. Sam took one look at him and stopped in front of the door, refusing to open it. “Tell me,” he demanded.

 

Steve finally broke. “I’m coming back at seven. We’re getting coffee,” he grinned.

 

Sam began giggling like a teenage girl, squealing and jumping on his toes, awkwardly clapping his hands around the red box he was holding. Steve blushed painfully hard, trying to shush him and not spill the cups of coffee he was carrying.

 

“For crying out loud, Sam, just go!” he hissed through his laughter. “I’m never telling you anything ever again.”

 

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said through his giggles, pushing the door open and walking out.

 

Steve followed, but just before he closed the door, he looked over his shoulder—and saw Bucky, Pete, and Mora all looking at him with big smiles on their faces. Steve grinned back, despite his red cheeks, and raised a coffee cup in their direction, letting the door swing shut behind him.

 

“So?” Sam asked excitedly, once they were on the sidewalk and heading back to the car.

 

“So, what?” Steve said, feigning ignorance. He simply couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t felt this light in ages; he had forgotten, really, how good it felt to be interested in someone, and to find out he or she might be interested in return. It was a giddy feeling.

 

“ _So,_ is he as adorable as he looks?” Sam asked, grinning widely. Seeing Steve happy and excited about a possible relationship was just the best. Sam had missed seeing that sparkle in his eyes.

 

Steve shook his head, laughing. “He might be even more adorable than that,” he said. “I can kind of tell already that he’s got a little bit of a wicked streak in him. He likes to tease.”

 

“In a good way, though, right?” Sam asked hopefully.

 

“Definitely,” Steve said, smiling. “He called me ‘Stevie’ and then seemed surprised that it came out of his own mouth, but then he apologized and started giggling. It was so cute.”

 

“Holy moly,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Is there anything more precious than two nerds in love?”

 

“Baby pandas?” Steve asked, laughing.

 

“Possibly,” Sam agreed. “Now,” he said, when they reached the car, “let’s get these back to the office. Peggy asked for clotted cream and jam, and we got it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the warm welcome this story has received! All of the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! :D
> 
> <3


	4. And You Don't Come From This Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone! Our boys are finally going out--sort of. ;)
> 
> Small warning: there is some creepiness in this chapter, and some unwanted physical contact. Nothing more than that, though.
> 
> Otherwise, it's all fluffy goodness and goofiness.

 

Steve walked back in to the bookstore at five minutes before seven o’clock. He’d had enough time after leaving work that he was able to stop at home, get a bite to eat, and change his clothes, swapping out office wear for more casual attire; blue jeans that fit like they were molded to his body, a light gray t-shirt that might have been one size too small but he loved it anyway, sneakers, and a brown leather jacket. They were just having coffee on Bucky’s break, after all, it wasn’t an actual, formal date or anything. At least, he didn’t think it was.

 

If Steve had been at all concerned that Bucky had changed his mind sometime over the last few hours, those worries melted away when he saw Bucky walking down the stairs from the second floor, smiling in his direction. Bucky looked just as thrilled to see Steve, as Steve was to see him.

 

Steve walked up the center aisle to meet him. “Hi,” he smiled, his heart beating fast. Somehow, Bucky was even more gorgeous than the last time he saw him.

 

“Hi there, stranger,” he grinned flirtatiously, nearly causing Steve’s knees to buckle.

 

“Hi,” Steve said again, sighing, before shaking himself a bit. “Are you ready? To go, I mean?”

 

“Ooh, where are we going?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow and biting his bottom lip.

 

“Well,” Steve began, tearing his eyes away from Bucky’s bottom lip with no small amount of difficulty, “I know you only have half an hour, so I thought we could get some coffee, take a little walk? It’s really nice out tonight, and there’s some benches just down the block, if you would like to sit and talk a bit. I figured you’ve probably been on your feet for a few hours.”

 

“That sounds great,” Bucky smiled, pleasantly surprised at his thoughtfulness. “I just need to clock out and then we can go. I’ll be right back.”

 

“What kind of coffee do you like?” Steve asked. “I’ll go put the order in.”

 

“An iced vanilla latte would be perfect,” Bucky said, smiling shyly.

 

“You got it,” Steve replied. “I’ll be here.”

 

As Bucky walked away, toward the store’s office, Steve watched him for a few seconds, moaning internally at the little bit of sway in Bucky’s hips inside those tight jeans. He had a long, lean musculature that Steve wanted to stare at for hours, trace with his fingertips, and commit to canvas. He finally tore his eyes away long enough to go into the café and place an order with Scott, a friendly and chatty guy who worked evenings after Clint went home.

 

Two minutes later, Steve was holding one iced vanilla latte and one black coffee, waiting by the door. Bucky walked up to him, grinning happily, and Steve exhaled, a softly spoken, “Wow,” escaping under his breath.

 

“What?” Bucky asked, stopping about two feet away and smiling up at him.

 

“You’re just…” Steve sighed and shook his head. “You have a really beautiful smile,” he said quietly, his cheeks reddening.

 

“Oh, thanks,” Bucky said, grinning and blushing and squealing internally.

 

“Here is your iced vanilla latte,” Steve said, handing him the cup and a straw.

 

“Thank you,” he responded, taking them from him, getting a little _zing_ when their fingers brushed. “All set to go?”

 

Steve turned and opened the door, holding it for Bucky. “After you.”

 

They exchanged a lingering look as Bucky stepped past him and walked outside. The late-summer evening was warm and balmy and the air was still as they strolled along the sidewalk, lights just beginning to turn on as the sun was setting to the west. The trees lining the street were mostly green, just a few leaves beginning to show signs of changing color. They snuck shy glances at each other, neither of them sure how to start the conversation.

 

Finally Bucky broke the silence. “You never answered my question.”

 

“What question was that?” Steve responded, tilting his head to look at him.

 

They reached the courtyard area, a small square with benches, a water fountain, and lots of greenery and flowers at the top of a ‘T’-intersection of two streets. Bucky walked over to a bench and sat down with one leg folded under so that he could face Steve, taking the wrapper off his straw and popping it into the lid of his iced coffee. “You never told me who your favorite writers are.” Taking a sip of his drink, he sighed, “Mmm, so good.”

 

Steve set his coffee cup down on the bench. “It’s warmer out here than I thought,” he said, taking off his leather jacket and draping it over the back of the bench. He picked up his coffee and sat down, turning sideways to face Bucky, who was openly staring at him with his mouth hanging just slightly agape. “What?” he asked, confused.

 

“I, uh,” Bucky stammered. “I really like your shirt,” he finally spit out, having just successfully managed not to swallow his own tongue. The way Steve’s shirt hugged his chest and abs, outlining _holy mother of god_ every muscle, had to be illegal in some states. Some very sad, boring, unattractive states.

 

“Thanks,” Steve said, grinning bashfully. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s really soft.”

 

“It looks, yeah,” Bucky sighed, before suddenly taking a deep breath. “So, writers, yes. Favorite writers?”

 

“Well,” Steve smiled, “I love the classics, of course—Lee and Kirby, Binder, Fox—but some of the newer writers, like Ta-Nehisi Coates and Mark Millar, are just amazing. Their creativity and brilliance is astounding.” He looked over at Bucky, his enthusiasm making his eyes sparkle. “Outside of comics and graphic novels, I enjoy reading Dumas—his adventures are wonderful—and I also like Jane Austen. I never get tired of the richness and depth of detail she manages to convey.”

 

“It’s not often that you find a man willing to admit that he likes Jane Austen,” Bucky said, his heart thumping, because _oh, my god_ , could Steve be any more perfect? “I love her. I get so lost in the language and the romance of it, even her comedic work.”

 

For several long minutes they discussed different genres and writers, finding a shared affinity for Douglas Adams and Neil Gaiman, as well as action and sci-fi movies, 70’s punk rock and 80’s alternative. They both finished their drinks, and still continued to talk, paying no attention to the passing time.

 

“So do you work around here?” Bucky asked, chewing absently on the end of his straw.

 

Steve watched his lush, red lips for a moment before responding. “My office is in Lower Manhattan, actually. I live over in DUMBO.”

 

“So how did you end up coming to a bookstore in Brooklyn Heights?” Bucky asked, tilting his head slightly.

 

“An order—that you probably placed, funny enough—came in, and my accountant noticed the increase from previous orders,” Steve explained. “Sam and I decided to take a field trip to come look at the store, see what was going on.” He laughed. “Sam fell in love with the café, and I…well, I saw you. And the graphic novels section, of course,” he added quickly.

 

“Aww,” Bucky chuckled, smiling bashfully. “Have you always lived in DUMBO?”

 

“Nope,” Steve said, “I grew up in Vinegar Hill, just me and my mom.”

 

“Dad not around?” Bucky asked, innocently curious.

 

“He died before I was born,” Steve said, shrugging. “Never knew him. It was an accident during a military training exercise. Mom said he was a great guy, though.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, briefly touching Steve’s arm.

 

“How about you?” Steve asked, shivering slightly from the light touch. “Did you grow up around here?”

 

“Not even close,” Bucky said, huffing a laugh. “I grew up in Indiana with Mom, Dad, and my little sister Becca.”

 

“That sounds nice,” Steve said.

 

“Yes and no,” Bucky said. “I love my sister to pieces, and my mom and I still talk sometimes, but my dad was overly-strict and extremely conservative.”

 

“Uh-oh,” Steve cringed.

 

“Yeah, you can see where this is going, can’t you?” he laughed. “I came out to my parents when I was seventeen, my mom cried, my dad refused to speak to me, and when I left for NYU that fall, he told me not to come back.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, shaking his head sadly.

 

Bucky gave a half-shrug. “So I came to New York, worked two jobs to get through school and support myself—“

 

Steve held a hand up. “Waiter,” he said, smiling.

 

“Yup, that was one,” Bucky laughed, then pointed a thumb down the street, “the bookstore was the other.”

 

“How long have you worked here?” Steve asked.

 

“Since I was nineteen,” Bucky smiled, “so seven years. Nick has been really good to me. He looks out for everyone that works here.”

 

“He’s always come across to me as a really nice guy,” Steve said, happy that Bucky had been able to find such a great support system.

 

“I have no complaints, not really, even with the student loans I’ll be paying off forever,” Bucky grinned, refusing to let the past bring him down. “Eight years later, I have a Master’s Degree in Library and Information Sciences, I have some amazingly supportive friends, a job I really enjoy, a nice place to live with great roommates, and the future is looking very promising,” he said, smiling at Steve.

 

“That’s wonderful,” Steve said, more than a little impressed. “I enjoyed college, but after I got my Bachelor’s Degrees in Art and Publishing, I decided it was time to get SHIELD off the ground.”

 

“Seems like that was a pretty smart decision on your part,” Bucky nodded.

 

“I’ve been very lucky. It’s worked out well.” When they paused their conversation for a moment, Steve said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we crossed that bridge a while ago,” Bucky teased, before answering. “But yes, go ahead.”

 

“The girl—or woman, I guess—that I saw you with last week,” he said, fiddling with his empty coffee cup, “the one with the long brown hair and the red leather jacket.”

 

“Oh, Wanda,” Bucky said, nodding, as he smiled fondly. “What do you want to know?”

 

“You and she seem…close. Are you two,” Steve trailed off, tilting his head back and forth, “involved?”

 

“Only in an artistic sense,” Bucky said, grinning at Steve’s confusion. “She’s a tattoo artist. She’s working on a design for me.”

 

“You have a tattoo?” Steve asked, lighting up, obviously relieved.

 

“A fairly substantial one,” Bucky nodded, “on my left arm, from my elbow to my shoulder.” He pushed up the sleeve of his Henley to just above his elbow, so that Steve could see the bottom edge of the artwork. What appeared to be metal plates were inked onto his skin, the lines and shading looking both realistic and impressive.

 

“Wow, that looks gorgeous,” Steve said, refraining from reaching out to touch, but just barely. “She does beautiful work.” He then pushed up own left sleeve. “I only have this one,” he said, revealing a black stylized bull’s head on his shoulder. “This is my mom’s zodiac sign.”

 

“That’s nice, I like it,” Bucky smiled. “I haven’t decided if I want to extend this fully down my arm yet, “ he explained. “She’s working up some possibilities for me to look at.”

 

“She sounds like a good friend,” Steve said, smiling softly.

 

“She is, a very good friend,” Bucky agreed. “Are we involved romantically? No,” he shook his head, smirking. “She’s not my type.”

 

“Do you mind if I ask what your type is, then?” Steve asked, almost holding his breath.

 

Bucky tilted his head to the side, quirking his eyebrow flirtatiously as he looked Steve over from the top of his head down to where his sneaker-clad feet were crossed. “Big, blond, incredibly sweet men that ask me out to coffee and wear t-shirts that are almost criminally tight,” he grinned, happily watching Steve blush. “How about you?” he asked in return. “What’s your type?”

 

Steve looked at him for a moment, struggling with himself, before deciding _Fuck it, I’m going in_. “Adorable brunets with big blue-grey eyes and a smile so gorgeous that my knees get weak,” he replied softly, unable to tear his eyes from Bucky’s.

 

“Damn,” Bucky whispered, “you are one hell of a smooth talker, Rogers.”

 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Steve said, smiling in return.

 

“I really wish I didn’t have to go back to work,” Bucky said, his bottom lip jutting out just a bit in a pretty pout.

 

“Is it time already?” Steve asked, not wanting to look away from Bucky’s mouth to check his watch.

 

“Past it, actually,” Bucky admitted. “I’m five minutes late.”

 

“Not going to get in trouble, are you?” Steve asked, not looking overly concerned.

 

Bucky shook his head, lips pursed. “Nah, they’ll probably throw me a party, to be honest.” At Steve’s raised eyebrows, he said, “I haven’t, uh, had coffee with anyone in a while.”

 

“Me, neither,” Steve said. At Bucky’s questioning look, he said, “Got out of a long relationship close to a year ago, hadn’t really considered or even wanted to date since. Then I met you,” he paused for a moment, “and suddenly the idea of dating again seems very appealing.”

 

“Why, Mister Rogers,” Bucky teased, “are you asking me out on an actual date?”

 

“Well, Mister—“ Steve stopped, his mouth closing with a snap. “I don’t know your last name.”

 

“It’s Barnes,” Bucky laughed.

 

“Well, Mister Barnes,” Steve started again, chuckling along with him, “it would please me greatly if you would agree to go out on an actual date with me.”

 

“So formal,” Bucky giggled. Then he smiled shyly. “I would really like to go on a date with you, Stevie.”

 

“Name the day and the time,” Steve said, beaming. “I’ll be there.”

 

“Saturday night?” Bucky asked, grinning. “I’m opening Saturday, so I’ll be done at five o’clock.”

 

“Shall we say seven o’clock, then? We could go out to dinner,” Steve suggested.

 

“Sounds perfect,” Bucky replied happily.

 

“Any preferences? Vegetarian, vegan, allergies?” Steve inquired.

 

“I love Italian, and no, no, and no,” Bucky responded. He took his phone out of his back pocket and held it up. “Should we exchange information?”

 

“Absolutely,” Steve said, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving his device. Looking at the screen, he laughed.

 

“What?” Bucky asked.

 

“I have about fifteen texts and six missed phone calls from Sam,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “He’s so nosy.”

 

“Is Sam your best friend?” Bucky asked.

 

“Since middle school,” Steve nodded. “Helped me get SHIELD off the ground.”

 

“He seems like a good guy to have on your side,” Bucky said.

 

“He is,” Steve agreed. Unlocking his phone, he handed it to Bucky. “Send yourself a text?” he asked.

 

Bucky giddily plucked the phone from Steve’s hand and brought up the texting app. He entered his phone number and began typing on the tiny keyboard. “This is big, blond, beefy Steve,” he narrated as he typed, Steve laughing, “asking the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met—“

 

“That’s true,” Steve interrupted with a grin. Bucky giggled.

 

“—out on a date this Saturday night at seven o’clock. And…’Send.’” Bucky finished, handing the phone back to Steve, just as his own phone pinged to notify him of an incoming message. “What could _that_ be?” he asked, feigning ignorance, as he looked at his screen. “Aww, a message from Stevie,” he said, opening the app and saving Steve’s number to his contact list. “Asking me on a date this Saturday.” Bucky sighed dreamily. “He’s so charming and sweet. I’m going to say ‘yes.’” He sent Steve a response, the blond’s phone pinging with the reply.

 

“You’re a goofball,” Steve laughed, adding Bucky’s name to his contacts. “So if your first name is James, where does ‘Bucky’ come from?”

 

“My middle name is Buchanan,” he cringed. “When my sister was little, she couldn’t say it, so she called me ‘Bucky-nan’ instead. Thank goodness _that_ didn’t stick.”

 

“That’s so cute,” Steve snickered. Bucky slapped his bicep lightly, shaking his hand jokingly afterward, pretending to be hurt.

 

“Dang, your arms are like rocks,” he said, squeezing the bicep in question.

 

“Quite a change from when I was a kid,” Steve said sheepishly.

 

“Will I get to hear about this on our date?” Bucky asked with a big grin, picking up his empty iced coffee cup and getting to his feet.

 

“You can ask me absolutely anything,” Steve said, getting to his feet as well and picking up his jacket.

 

“I will start making a list,” he replied playfully. They started to walk back to the bookstore, strolling without any urgency to get back quickly. “Thanks for the coffee,” Bucky said, a little shyly, “and the walk. I had a really nice time.”

 

“I did, too,” Steve said, smiling down at him. “I’ve really enjoyed talking to you. I wish we had more time, but now I’m really looking forward to Saturday. I know a great Italian place.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Bucky said as they reached the front door of the bookstore. A light breeze had picked up, and a lock of hair blew across his eyes. Steve slowly reached forward, tucking the strands of hair behind Bucky’s ear, making Bucky giggle a little. He then opened the door and held it for Bucky as he went inside. Turning back to Steve, Bucky flashed his flirtatious grin and said, “Have a good night, Stevie.”

 

“You, too, Buck,” Steve said, quietly mesmerized by the man in front of him. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Yeah, you will,” he said, dropping the pitch of his voice and waggling his eyebrows salaciously.

 

Steve laughed, “Good night, goofball.” He let the door slowly swing shut, and he waved to Bucky as he backed away. When the door finally closed, he turned and walked down the sidewalk to his car, smiling and humming to himself.

 

***

 

Before he made it home, Steve’s phone pinged with an incoming message. He opened the message as he walked into his building and headed for the elevator. There was a picture of Bucky, smiling shyly, a lock of hair falling across his cheek, looking at the camera through his lashes and biting his bottom lip seductively, with the message underneath, _Can’t wait for Saturday._

 

Steve groaned out loud, thankful he was alone in the elevator. He saved the picture and added it to Bucky’s contact information. He quickly sent a response, just a single word. _Breathtaking._

 

Ten minutes, later, with his hand covered in lube and come, he was still staring at it.

 

***

 

Bucky had barely made it a dozen steps into the bookstore when Pete came flying at him out of nowhere. “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky! How did it go? Is he nice? Is he as adorable as he seems? Is he…” he gestured toward the front of his pants, grinning and nodding and eyebrows raised.

 

“Pete? What the hell?” Bucky hissed. “Why are you still here?”

 

“I clocked out and went home a while ago,” he said, waving his hands. “I came back to get the scoop on your mini-date.”

 

Bucky couldn’t fight back the smile. “It was great,” he said. “Steve is…just…amazing.”

 

Pete clasped his hands together under his chin. “This is so awesome. Promise you’ll name your first-born after me.”

 

Bucky tilted his head. “I don’t know, ‘Dickhead Rogers-Barnes’ might get him teased a lot.”

 

Pete barked out a laugh. “When are you seeing him again?” he asked.

 

“Saturday night. We’re going out to dinner,” Bucky grinned. “I’m not sure I can wait that long, though.”

 

“Remember, James, patience is a virtue,” Pete said, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

 

***

 

Sam was not a very patient man.

 

“Dude, I’ve been calling you and calling you! How did it go?”

 

After Steve had calmed down and washed himself off, he had called Sam back, fully expecting the interrogation he was now receiving.

 

“I just got home a couple minutes ago,” Steve said, leaving out the fifteen minutes that he had already been there because _no,_ Sam didn’t need to know about that.

 

“It’s almost eight-thirty! I thought you said he only had a half-hour break?”

 

“We sort of lost track of time,” Steve said, and he didn’t need to fake the smile in his voice—he couldn’t _stop_ smiling. “And before you say something inappropriate, we were just talking.”

 

“Must have been a damn good talk to lose that much time,” Sam teased, grinning on the other end of the line.

 

“God, Sam,” Steve sighed happily, “he is just so sweet, and funny, and he’s so smart. He’s got a Master’s Degree in Library and Information Sciences—“

 

“Damn,” Sam said, impressed.

 

“—and he’s got such a positive outlook. His dad kicked him out when he left for college, and he worked two jobs to get through school,” Steve said, before pausing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that part.”

 

“What—that his dad kicked him out? Why? Because he’s gay?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said sadly. “I mean, it didn’t seem like it bothered him, but it is personal, so—“

 

“I will not say a word unless he volunteers the information himself first,” Sam promised.

 

“Thanks, Sam.”

 

“Honestly, it just makes me like him more,” Sam said. “Kid’s got brains and determination. That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

 

“He’s twenty-six, Sam,” Steve chuckled, “not exactly a kid.”

 

“It sounds like you really like him,” Sam said, all kidding aside now.

 

“I do,” Steve said. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, and just looking at him makes me forget how to breathe, but he’s…” he sighed wistfully. “I just want to hug him and take care of him and know everything about him.”

 

“So when are you seeing him again?” Sam asked kindly.

 

“Saturday night,” Steve grinned. “If I can wait that long.”

 

***

 

Steve couldn’t wait that long. He began texting Friday morning.

 

 

Stevie: _Good morning, Bucky._

 

Me: _Well, hello there, handsome. How are you this morning?_

 

Stevie: _Looking forward to seeing your beautiful smile again. How are you?_

 

Me: _Feeling pretty damn special right now._

 

Me: _Thanks for the ego-boost. ;)_

 

Stevie: _Always happy to help. :)_

 

Stevie: _What are your plans for today?_

 

Me: _Gym this morning, then closing at work tonight._

 

Me: _Typical Friday. How about you?_

 

Stevie: _Like you said, typical Friday. 9-ish to 5-ish. Promised to have drinks with Sam and his GF after._

 

Stevie: _The nights you close, when do you eat dinner?_

 

Me: _Most nights I wait until I get home, but Friday nights are later, so I get an hour break at 7. Tonight I’m hitting the Italian deli down the street—the smoked turkey is fantastic._

 

Stevie: _Sounds good, maybe you’ll show me sometime?_

 

Me: _I’d like that. :)_

 

Me: _Gotta get going now. Talk to you soon. :D_

 

Stevie: _Absolutely. Have a great day, Buck._

 

Me: _You too, Stevie. (*3*)_

 

Stevie: _What is that?_

 

Me: _Kissy-face emoticon. How old are you?_

 

Stevie: _I’m only 33!_

 

Stevie: _You’re adorable._

 

Me: _Another ego-boost. Careful, Stevie, I could get used to this. ;)_

 

Stevie: _You are more than welcome to._

 

Stevie: _See you later. :)_

 

Me: _Bye. :)_

 

 

Bucky floated through breakfast, trying to stay out from under Nat’s watchful eyes, then went to the gym. His nervous, excited energy propelled him through his strength workout quite a bit faster than usual—his weight training typically took 45-50 minutes, but that day it took just over half an hour to complete—and then thirty minutes of fast-paced, low- to non-impact cardio, usually stairs, elliptical, or bike. Leg day was always a beast, but the satisfaction he got from leaving the gym with wobbly muscles was totally worth it.

 

Friday was also errand day. Since he usually stayed until late at work on Fridays—the bookstore didn’t close until ten o’clock, so he was normally there until eleven—he also went in later, at three o’clock, so he had most of the morning and early afternoon to get all of his personal business done. So he went grocery shopping—stocking up on the junk food that made Nat cringe—and did some laundry before going to work.

 

He liked Fridays at the bookstore. Everyone was usually in a good mood, because Fridays, and it was busy enough that the time passed quickly. Ten minutes before his break, he called Colletta’s, the Italian deli a couple of blocks from BHB, and put in his usual order—smoked turkey and sharp cheddar on whole wheat, with lettuce, tomatoes, and light mayo, which would be ready when he got there—then at seven, he clocked out and walked down the street.

 

It was another lovely evening, a little cooler than just a few nights earlier, with the promise of autumn on the breeze, and Bucky took a deep breath, smiling to himself. He was comfortable in his long-sleeved t-shirt, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he needed a jacket. It had been a great week, and the upcoming weekend was definitely looking good. It had been a long time since he’d looked forward to anything like—

 

“Hey, James, where you goin’?” a familiar voice drawled. A man stepped out of a shadowy doorway and started walking slowly toward Bucky.

 

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and a sick feeling settled in his gut. He’d almost stumbled upon hearing the voice, but he quickly regained his footing and began walking faster.

 

“I asked you a question, James, aren’t you gonna answer me?” he asked, falling into step behind Bucky.

 

“Leave me alone, Brock,” Bucky said, his good mood completely gone.

 

“Aw, c’mon, is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?” he said, moving to catch up.

 

“You’re not my boyfriend, you’re not even my friend,” Bucky bit out. “I told you I never wanted to see you again—pretty sure I made that clear.” He kept up his quick pace; the deli was only a block away.

 

“You don’t mean that. I know you miss me,” Brock said, smug confidence oozing from him.

 

Bucky barked out a laugh. “You’re delusional. What’s for me to miss, exactly? Constant disappointment and abuse? Just go away.”

 

“I know your sweet little ass misses me,” he said, his tone getting sharper. “C’mon, I’ll even play that freaky game I know you like, so why don’t we head over to my—“

 

“ _Piss off, Brock,_ ” Bucky said loudly, his stomach churning with shame. “I don’t want anything to do with you, so just _go away._ ” The deli was right there, only a few feet more.

 

“Did you know your boss called mine?” Brock said, now sounding angry. “Tried to get my route changed?”

 

Bucky began to reach for the door.

 

Brock grabbed Bucky’s left arm and pulled him away, twisting his shoulder. Bucky yelled in pain, immediately trying to extricate himself. “Yeah, we both know that fucked-up arm of yours can’t do shit, _James,_ so I’m gonna say it again—“

 

“What the hell is going on out here?” a loud voice yelled from the deli.

 

Bucky turned his head and saw Mister Colletta, or Vinnie, as he insisted Bucky call him, standing in the doorway, holding a meat cleaver in his huge right hand. “I think you’d better get your mitts offa Jamie right the fuck now,” he said, glaring at Brock, “or you’re gonna be short a few fingers.”

 

Brock released him immediately and backed away, his hands up in a defensive position. “Hey, man, just calm down, nothin’ goin’ on here.”

 

Bucky rubbed his sore left shoulder and walked backward toward the deli. “Leave me alone, Brock. I’m serious,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t _ever_ want to see you again.”

 

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his eyes narrowed. He started to walk away. “My route’s not changing, and you won’t have a body guard around all the time.”

 

“You little fucker,” Vinnie growled, gripping the cleaver tighter and pointing it in Brock’s direction. “Anything happens to Jamie, no one’ll ever find your body.”

 

Brock gave him a dirty look and spat on the sidewalk, but he kept walking, back the way he came.

 

Bucky exhaled shakily, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

 

“No problem, kiddo,” he said quietly, ushering Bucky inside. “Is that the asshole you broke things off with a while back?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “He’s having a little trouble accepting it.”

 

“Little shit needs his ass kicked,” Vinnie grumbled, pulling out a chair for Bucky to sit down. “You need any ice for that shoulder?”

 

“No, it should be—“ he winced again as he tried to rotate it. “Yeah, okay, that’s probably a good idea.”

 

“Just stay put, I’ll be right back with a pack for ya,” Vinnie said, hustling behind the counter. “Got your sandwich and drink ready to go, too.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky said again, when he heard a ping from his phone. A feeling of dread came over him. He’d changed numbers after leaving Brock, but he knew there were ways to get private information.

 

The message wasn’t from Brock, thank goodness; it was from Steve, and Bucky released the breath he’d been holding.

 

 

Stevie: _I’ve been staring at your picture for two days._

 

Stevie: _And I just realized I hadn’t sent you one in return._

 

 

And then suddenly he was looking at Steve’s sweet, smiling face, appearing slightly embarrassed to be taking a selfie. It was the cutest thing Bucky had ever seen.

 

“Who’s that?” Vinnie asked, setting down a tray and unloading a plate with a sandwich, a big glass of iced-tea-and-lemonade, and a bag of ice, which he set gently on Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“Ahh,” Bucky gasped, the cold shocking him a little. “Thanks, Vinnie,” he said again, adjusting the ice pack a little. “This is a guy I just met a couple of days ago,” he said, showing Vinnie the picture. “We’d seen each other a couple times at the bookstore and finally talked. His name’s Steve.”

 

“Good-lookin’ guy,” Vinnie said, handing the phone back. “He nice?”

 

“So far, yeah, he’s really nice,” Bucky said, looking at the picture again and smiling. “He’s actually the writer and artist of my favorite graphic novel series.”

 

“Well, now,” Vinnie smiled and nodded, “that sounds like something. You two gonna go out?”

 

“Our first date is tomorrow night,” Bucky grinned. “He’s picking me up and taking me out to dinner.”

 

“Make sure he treats you good,” Vinnie said, ruffling Bucky’s hair, “and don’t put out for him yet.”

 

“Oh, my god!” Bucky laughed, turning bright red as he smoothed his hair down. “You’re awful.”

 

“Maybe you should bring him by, let me check him out first,” Vinnie said, wandering behind the counter again.

 

“Absolutely not!” Bucky cried as Vinnie laughed in his big, loud way. “I’ll probably bring him around at some point, though. He loves Italian food.”

 

“I like him already,” Vinnie grinned. He pointed at the sandwich. “Now eat up. You need more meat on your bones.”

 

“Okay, okay,” he said, balancing the ice pack on his shoulder and then taking a big bite of his sandwich. As he chewed, he sent Steve a response.

 

 

Me: _This picture came at the perfect time._

 

Me: _Thank you. <3_

 

Stevie: _You’re welcome, Buck. See you tomorrow. :)_

 

 

When Bucky was done with his sandwich and drink, and his shoulder was essentially numb from the ice pack, he stood up to leave, only to have Vinnie inform him that he had been planning on going to the bookstore anyway, so he’d walk back with Bucky. “One of my favorite mystery writers just came out with a new book. I’ve been meanin’ to pick it up.”

 

Knowing exactly what he was doing, and feeling so incredibly grateful for the kindness of his friends, Bucky just nodded, his throat feeling a little tight.

 

Vinnie flipped the sign on his door to read “Back in 30 Minutes,” and they strolled together along the sidewalk, Vinnie’s big left hand protectively on Bucky’s right shoulder, and his right hand wrapped around the handle of the meat cleaver in the large pocket of his coat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock is the worst. Always and forever.
> 
> Vinnie, though, is the best.
> 
> Just so you know, I don't pick names at random. Ever. Not even for tertiary characters. Vincent J. Colletta (1923-1991), for example, was an artist and art director for Marvel and was Jack Kirby's most frequent inker in the 1950's and 60's. I think it makes the story more fun when you look up the names and see the connection. Maybe I'm just weird. XD
> 
> I hope you all have a great weekend!


	5. Your Strut Makes Me Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Date Night! Our boys finally get to spend some time together. :D

 

By Saturday night, Steve was a nervous wreck. He’d made reservations for the two of them at _Il Rosso,_ his favorite restaurant in the city, for eight o’clock. It was nice without being extravagantly fancy, and had a cozy, welcoming atmosphere. He’d texted Bucky to make sure that seven o’clock was still a good time to pick him up, and Bucky had responded that it was perfect, also sending him his address.

 

Bucky lived in Bed-Stuy, which was about a twenty-minute drive from Steve’s place in DUMBO, and then doubling back to Lower Manhattan was at least a forty-minute drive. On the one hand, Steve was looking forward to having plenty of time with Bucky to talk; on the other hand, Steve was nervous about having so much time to talk. His experiences in the past hadn’t left him feeling overly confident in his ability to make chitchat.

 

 _This is different,_ Steve told himself. _Bucky is different._ Just thinking about Bucky, looking at his picture, sent a wild herd of butterflies stampeding through him, and Steve had to remind himself that this was a _good_ thing. He was so excited to see him again. Three days was too long, now that he knew just how sweet and kind and funny Bucky really was.

 

Bucky, likewise, was freaking out, but for a different reason. He’d tried on four outfits since Steve let him know that the restaurant was nice, but not overly formal, and hadn’t picked one yet. When six o’clock came and went, he buckled down and finally decided on a dark blue sweater with a white t-shirt underneath and his nicest blue jeans, which hugged his ass in a very flattering way. His hair took forever, of course, and by the time he was ready to go, his phone was ringing. Steve was downstairs. Grabbing his wallet and his keys, and sticking everything in his pockets, Bucky went out the front door, successfully avoiding both Clint and Nat.

 

Steve was walking in his direction, coming from his car. When he spotted Bucky coming out of the townhouse and walking down the stairs, he waved, a huge smile on his face. Bucky paused, taking him in; he was wearing black jeans and a dark grey shirt with a lightweight black jacket. Bucky grinned in response and walked down to the sidewalk to meet him.

 

Steve’s jaw dropped as Bucky came toward him. The way he moved so gracefully, like no one Steve had ever seen before, almost like a cat prowling toward its prey, had him stopped in his tracks. Seeing his expression, Bucky turned up the flirt a bit, coming right up to Steve and looking up at him through his lashes. “Hi, Stevie,” he purred, “are you happy to see me?”

 

When Steve found his voice and finally got his brain back on-line, he whispered huskily, “So happy.” He gently brushed some strands of hair from Bucky’s eyes and said, “You look beautiful.”

 

Bucky shivered at the deep rumbling of his voice as well as the light touch against his temple. He ran a teasing index finger down Steve’s sternum and over his rock-hard _good god is he for real_ abs and whispered, “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

 

Even in the dim light of sunset, there was no mistaking the heat he saw in Steve’s eyes for anything but pure desire, and Steve must have realized how hard he was staring, because he suddenly blinked several times and shook his head. Exhaling forcefully, he said, “Wow. You just…honestly, you take my breath away.”

 

Bucky was looking up at him, their eyes locked onto each other, and after several seconds, Bucky whispered, “I’m a little tempted to just drag you inside and have my way with you.”

 

Steve took a slow, deep breath, his gaze never wavering, as he exhaled just as slowly. “As much as I would love that,” Steve responded softly, “I think you should probably get to know me a little better first.”

 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Probably,” Bucky said, licking his lips and starting to feel a little warm.

 

Steve slowly leaned forward and, when Bucky’s head tilted up and his eyes slid shut, he felt Steve’s hands rest gently on his upper arms and his lips press a soft kiss to his forehead. Bucky put his hands on Steve’s chest, leaning lightly against him. After a few seconds, Steve said, “We have lots of time, Bucky. We don’t need to rush this.”

 

Bucky chuckled a little breathlessly. “What if I want to rush this?” he asked, sliding his hands just a little over Steve’s pecs, practically melting at the feel of him.

 

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” Steve said, trailing his hands down Bucky’s arms and settling at his waist. “You deserve to be taken care of, and that takes time.”

 

“Damn, Stevie,” Bucky said, leaning fully against him now, “you need to stop being so perfect. You’re gonna ruin me.”

 

“I hope I get the chance to, sweetheart,” he whispered in his ear, and Bucky inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open in time to see Steve smiling down at him. “Now, let’s go before I do something ungentlemanly.” Turning, he took Bucky’s right hand in his left, entwining their fingers, and started walking to the car.

 

Bucky’s heart was pounding, and he was sure he was bright red; it wasn’t often (hell, it had been _years_ since the last time) that someone made his heart race like this, but _holy shit_ did Steve seem to know exactly which buttons to push. By the time they were both in Steve’s car—a nice German model that Bucky would have appreciated more had his brain not just been flipped _the fuck_ out—and moving toward the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway (a.k.a., the BQE), he had managed to get his breathing under control.

 

Bucky took a peek at Steve, only to find him grinning slyly in his direction. “You okay?” he asked teasingly.

 

“I think I’ve recovered,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head a little. “Damn, Stevie, it’s a good thing you kept that inner flirt under wraps until now. If that had come out while I was at work, the break room never would have been the same.”

 

Steve laughed. “I’m not normally that smooth,” he admitted. “Sam would be proud. Years of coaching have finally paid off.”

 

“So you and Sam have never…?” Bucky trailed off, letting the question hang in the air.

 

“No,” Steve said emphatically, shaking his head and chuckling. “Sam is very straight. The woman he’s been seeing for the last year or so is NYPD, actually. Maria—she’s great.”

 

“You and Sam have been friends since middle school?” Bucky asked.

 

“Best friends,” Steve nodded. “Knows me better than anyone. He knew I was bisexual before I did,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

 

“Oh, you—you’re bisexual?” Bucky asked, somewhat surprised.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Sam noticed that I got all red and tongue-tied around the captain of the football team just as often as I did around the head cheerleader,” he continued, laughing a bit. “I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me, so Sam and Tony—one of my other really good friends—talked me through it, let me know there was nothing wrong with it, or with me. Saved me from myself, really.”

 

“I’m surprised _you_ weren’t the captain of the football team,” Bucky said, eyeing him up and down.

 

“Oh, no, this happened later,” Steve said, gesturing to himself in a general way. “I was an amazingly scrawny kid.”

 

“I’ll bet you were just as sweet and adorable, though,” Bucky smiled, Steve blushing slightly in response. “I probably would have tried to get you to meet me under the bleachers.” He leaned a little closer. “Just so you know,” he said in a stage whisper, “I’m gay. Like, _totally_ gay.”

 

“Gay, bi, pan, however you choose to identify,” Steve said, looking over at Bucky with a fond expression, “I think you’re absolutely wonderful, inside and out.”

 

“Oh, my god, Stevie,” Bucky cried, “I just can’t take this, you’re too much! Stop it!” he giggled.

 

“Sorry,” he laughed, “I’ll try to tone down the awesome.”

 

“Only when we’re in public,” Bucky teased. “When I get you alone, you can unleash it.”

 

“Oh, I plan to,” Steve said, dropping his voice to a dark, rumbly timbre, looking sideways at Bucky and grinning predatorily.

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Bucky whispered, gaping at him while his heart sped up again.

***

 

They arrived at the restaurant about fifteen minutes before their reservation time, so after Steve checked in with the hostess, he led Bucky into the bar area. It was comfortable and not too crowded, with a long, gleaming, oak wood bar and floors. Once they had their drinks, they sat at a small round table, sitting close together as they waited. Steve put his right arm across the back of Bucky’s chair, the gesture warming Bucky all over and turning his cheeks a little pink.

 

They picked up where they left off, the conversation flowing easily. Steve told Bucky about his childhood, how he’d suffered from a host of illnesses and ailments. “I started writing and drawing as a way to escape,” Steve explained. “That’s really when I created _Captain America,_ someone who could do things normal people couldn’t do—everything that _I_ couldn’t do.” He took a sip of his beer, a half-smile on his face. “When I was fifteen, my mom, who was a nurse, heard about testing trials for an experimental treatment with a doctor named Erskine. Turned out I was a good fit for the trials, so I got in. It was successful beyond what anyone could have hoped,” he grinned. “Over the course of about nine months, all of my illnesses just went away—the asthma, anemia, stomach ulcers, all of it—were cured. It was a miracle, really.”

 

“That’s amazing,” Bucky said, pleased for Steve that it had worked out for him. “And afterward? You grew into a Greek god overnight?”

 

“No, it wasn’t overnight,” Steve laughed, blushing. “It took a little over a year for the growth spurt to happen. It was during senior year of high school, actually. I grew nearly a foot in six months—“

 

“Ouch,” Bucky winced.

 

“Yeah, it was pretty painful,” he agreed, “and I was suddenly hungry all the time. That had never happened before, either.”

 

“But you’re healthy now?” Bucky asked, and Steve saw real concern on his face.

 

“Yes. Completely,” he said, smiling.

 

“Good,” Bucky sighed, truly relieved. “That’s the most important thing. As long as you’re healthy, you can do anything.”

 

“Sounds like you know a little bit about that,” Steve said, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

 

Bucky leaned into the touch, smiling a little. “Yeah, you could say that.” He said ruefully. “When I was fourteen, I got hit by a car while I was riding my bike home from school.”

 

“Oh, my god,” Steve blurted out. “That’s awful,” he said, reaching over the table and taking Bucky’s right hand in his left.

 

“Not to be gruesome, but the driver didn’t even realize he’d hit me until he’d already dragged me for a block and a half,” Bucky shrugged. “He was drunk, big surprise. Luckily he wasn’t driving very fast and I’d been wearing a good helmet and a heavy denim jacket and jeans, so that protected me from a lot; my left arm, though, got caught in his bumper, and didn’t come out of it so great.” He was looking at the table, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

 

“I spent a lot of time in the hospital over the next couple of years for various surgeries to repair the damage,” Bucky said, his voice going a little flat. “Unfortunately, I don’t have full mobility in my shoulder and probably never will, and the scarring is pretty significant.”

 

“Oh, Bucky,” Steve said, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Bucky’s right hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

 

“On a positive note, because of the scarring, I became very good friends with Wanda,” he smiled. “I probably never would have worn short sleeves again if it wasn’t for her. She is an amazing person and she’s done a lot to help me feel less self-conscious.”

 

“I would love to see the whole tattoo sometime,” Steve said, giving Bucky’s hand a light squeeze, “when you feel comfortable enough to show me.”

 

Bucky blushed. “Another happy by-product of spending all that time in recovery was that I had plenty of time to read. That’s where I found my love of books, really. It’s where I discovered comics and GNs—and eventually found _Captain America,_ ” he added with a grin. “I hadn’t minded reading before, but it was something I did for school, not for pleasure, you know? I’d been involved in sports before that—baseball, football, basketball, anything, really. When it became clear that athletics weren’t going to be a part of my future, everything changed.”

 

“How so?” Steve asked, curious. “I was never able to play sports as a kid, so….”

 

“Well, my dad never looked at me the same way again, and that was before I came out,” he said, a thoughtful look on his face. “Sports were pretty much the only way he could communicate with me, the only thing we had in common, really. Once that was gone, he just didn’t talk to me very much. I mean, I already knew I was gay, had known for years, so maybe he could sense it, too? Maybe he had hoped that if I stayed in sports that I wouldn’t come out, like, ever.”

 

“I don’t know how anyone couldn’t accept you exactly as you are. You’re wonderful,” Steve said softly, still holding his hand.

 

Bucky smirked at him. “You might be a little biased. I _am_ the most beautiful boy you’ve ever met, after all,” he teased.

 

“Yes, you are,” Steve replied, smiling as he held Bucky’s gaze. For several seconds they just looked at each other, not speaking. Words weren’t necessary.

 

The moment was interrupted when the hostess walked up to them. “Steve?” she asked, smiling widely. “Your table is ready.”

 

“Oh, thank you,” Steve said, pushing his chair back and standing. Bucky stood as well, and Steve took his hand as the hostess led them through the restaurant to their table. The wood floors in the bar continued through the main dining area, and the lighting was both warm and intimate, without trying to be overly romantic. Once they were seated, and they had placed their orders, their conversation picked up again immediately.

 

“So we both know how my parents reacted to me coming out,” Bucky said, taking a sip of water. “How did your mom take it?”

 

Steve laughed. “I told my mom when I was sixteen,” he said. “I was finally getting healthy, eating more, not looking like I was going to keel over the next time I caught a cold. So one morning before school, a couple of months after Sam and Tony clued me in, I told her that I was pretty sure I was bisexual, and the only thing she asked me was if I interested in someone.” He shrugged, chuckling. “Really, that was it. She wasn’t shocked or fazed by it or anything. Truthfully, I think she was just happy that I was going to live to see adulthood. She did tell me to always be safe and to be careful, but I’m pretty sure she would have said that regardless.”

 

“She sounds incredible,” Bucky smiled.

 

“She was,” Steve nodded, his smile turning a little sad. “She died of cancer when I was eighteen, right before I started college.”

 

“Oh, Steve, no,” Bucky sighed.

 

“It happened quickly,” Steve said. “By the time she was diagnosed she was already at stage four. She only lasted a couple months after that.” He took a sip of his drink. “She made me promise that I would continue with my art, because she knew I loved it and that it made me happy, and that I wouldn’t settle for anything less than true love.”

 

“Oh, wow,” Bucky said, blinking hard, his eyes prickling. “Dammit, Steve, you’re gonna make me cry.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking as if he felt bad.

 

“No, don’t be,” Bucky said, sniffling a little, but smiling anyway. “That’s just, honestly, one of the most loving and wonderful things I’ve ever heard.” He chuckled a bit then, dabbing his eyes with his napkin. “And, fair warning, I cry at Disney movies, too. Anything remotely emotional or sentimental and I get a little weepy. Hell, this one sci-fi action movie I watched a little while ago? I cried over a talking tree,” he laughed.

 

“I’ll remember to keep tissues on me at all times,” Steve said, smiling at him.

 

“Of course you will,” Bucky chuckled. “You’re so good to me.”

 

“I’d like to be,” Steve said softly. Bucky met his eyes, and his heart skipped a few beats at the earnest sincerity he saw there.

 

Just then, their server arrived with their meals. Bucky ordered chicken and mozzarella ravioli with marinara, while Steve had rigatoni alla Genovese, and the two split a Caprese salad, which Bucky moaned indecently over. “Oh, _Steve,_ ” he sighed, closing his eyes in sheer bliss, “this is _incredible._ ”

 

“Isn’t it?” Steve agreed, praying to the Patron Saint of Inappropriate Boners that the hard-on he was suddenly sporting would subside before it was time to go. Watching Bucky lick his lips and listening to him moan and sigh wasn’t helping matters, but he couldn’t stop. Bucky was absolutely spellbinding.

 

Eventually, as they worked through their dinners, they began talking about other aspects of their lives. “So you mentioned that you got out of a long-term relationship a while ago,” Bucky said, cutting apart a piece of ravioli. “Do you mind if I ask about that?”

 

“No, not at all,” Steve said. “Her name was Sharon, and—“

 

“Your long-term relationship was with a woman?” Bucky asked, intrigued.

 

Steve nodded. “We were together for a little over two years,” Steve said. “We met at a publishing conference about three or so years ago. I thought we had decent chemistry and some common interests and that it was enough to build on—until it turned out she wasn’t really who I thought she was.”

 

“How do you mean?” Bucky asked, confused.

 

“She wasn’t honest with me about herself—about her interests, her goals, her needs, about anything, really,” Steve said, frowning. “She had constructed this façade, presented herself in such a way to be exactly what I wanted. As we got more involved, she began to try and change me into what _she_ wanted, into someone who would complete the image she had imagined for herself.”

 

“That’s awful,” Bucky said, his brow furrowed. “Why would she do that?”

 

“At the root of it, she was incredibly shallow and superficial,” Steve said with a half-shrug. “She liked how I looked at her side, but she was embarrassed by what I did for a living. Anytime we were at a work function of hers, she would tell people that I was ‘in publishing,’ like she was, but didn’t want me to tell anyone that I wrote and drew comic books. She said it wasn’t a ‘grown-up job.’”

 

“Wow,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Didn’t she know anything about your work? What you do is challenging and creative and it takes so much time and dedication.“

 

“Oh, Buck, that wasn’t even the worst of it,” Steve said, chuckling. “After she decided that I would be selling out to a big publishing house, she began planning our wedding and how many kids we would have.”

 

“Pardon me?” Bucky asked in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, now almost laughing outright. “But she didn’t want my kids, because I was so sick as a child. She wanted to use a sperm donor, so that our children wouldn’t be ‘messed up’ from my obviously defective genes.”

 

“Holy shit, what a bitch,” Bucky breathed, shocked at the utter callousness this woman had shown. “Was that the final straw?”

 

“You’d think,” Steve said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at his own story. “Nope, it was because I refused to sell out. She wanted me to take the fat paycheck with the big publisher, and when I refused, she walked out—told me to call her when I grew up.”

 

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Bucky said, completely baffled. “I just can’t imagine anyone treating you like that, you’re so sweet and kind, and I mean, yeah, you’re amazing-looking, but to use you like that….“

 

“Yeah, she was awful, but it still took me a little while to realize how much better off I was without her,” Steve said. “I came to understand that all life experiences, even the bad ones, help to shape us, and that we can learn from them and become better for it, or let them tear us down. I refused to let her tear me down; in fact, I decided to consider the whole relationship a learning experience.”

 

“You are remarkably well-balanced,” Bucky said, amazed. “I think I might have sworn off relationships for good if that happened to me.”

 

“I nearly did,” Steve admitted. “I threw myself into my work and haven’t dated at all until now. Ironically, as a result, my business has thrived in the past year. And for the most part, I was okay with not dating; sure, I was lonely sometimes, but I figured if it was going to happen, that it would happen at the right time, when I was ready for it.”

 

“You sound pretty grown-up to me,” Bucky said, grinning. “You gonna call her back?”

 

“God, no,” Steve laughed. “Once I saw her for who she really was, getting out of that toxic mess felt like a huge weight was lifted. I’m much happier without her in my life. I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of months, but I do run into her from time to time, and I’m reminded every time I do just how much better I feel about myself since we split up.” He took a bite of his dinner. “So how about you? Any horrible past relationships you want to share?” he chuckled.

 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Bucky said, his expression turning somewhat guarded. Steve looked at him concernedly.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

 

“Well, suffice it to say, for now, that my ex was horribly controlling and an awful human being,” Bucky said, looking away. “Like yours, he was incredibly dishonest and didn’t treat me well at all.”

 

“Did he hurt you?” Steve asked, disbelief clear on his face.

 

“In more ways than one,” Bucky nodded, his eyes a little unfocused. Suddenly he snapped back to the present. “I left him a little over seven months ago.”

 

Steve could see in Bucky’s face that he didn’t want to say anymore about it, so he reached for Bucky’s hand, taking it gently in his. “I have a proposition for you,” he said, smiling when Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“Oh, really?” he asked, the teasing tone returning to his voice.

 

“Not that kind of proposition,” Steve laughed, caressing the back of Bucky’s hand with his thumb. “Here’s what I propose—that regardless of where this relationship goes, whether we decide to take it further or if we decide to just stay friends—that we are always completely honest and truthful with each other.”

 

“I’d like that,” Bucky said, a little tremulously, a shy smile forming.

 

“If there’s something we don’t want to talk about, that’s absolutely fine, as long as we’re honest about it,” Steve said.

 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Bucky agreed, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “So, in the spirit of honesty, I will tell you that my ex hasn’t exactly… _accepted_ that I never want to see him again. When I went out for my dinner break last night, he, um…he showed up and tried to talk to me and he grabbed my arm.”

 

“He _what?_ ” Steve said, and Bucky put a hand out to calm him.

 

“Steve, Steve, I’m fine, I promise,” he said, relieved at least that Steve seemed more concerned than angry. “Yes, he grabbed my arm. Yes, my shoulder hurts a little today because of it. But I’m okay, I swear.”

 

“Jesus, baby,” Steve said, looking at him with a worried expression. “You’re sure you’re alright? Did you have anyone check you over?”

 

“I put an ice pack on it, or, actually, Mister Colletta did,” he said, absently wondering if Steve even realized that he had just called him ‘baby.’

 

“Mister Colletta?” Steve asked, confused.

 

“He owns the Italian deli I was going to. He heard me yell and he came outside with a meat cleaver and ran Brock off.” When Steve narrowed his eyes, Bucky sighed and nodded. “Brock is my ex.” He chuckled a little. “Mister Colletta threatened him, too. Told him to keep his mitts off me.”

 

“I’m liking Mister Colletta more and more,” Steve said, reaching over to put his hand briefly on Bucky’s. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad you’re alright.”

 

Bucky smiled at him, and was only a little ~~a lot~~ sad that Steve needed his right hand in order to finish eating his dinner. “Thank you for not freaking out.” He cleared his throat. “Now, I don’t want to talk anymore about my ex right now, because it still makes me feel a little sick whenever I think about it, and I don’t want that to interfere with our time together tonight.”

 

“Of course, Buck,” Steve said, “as long as you know you can always talk to me. You can tell me anything. I will never think poorly of you.”

 

“Thanks, Stevie,” he said, happy and relieved, getting a rather bubbly feeling.

 

Steve watched him with a soft expression. “Is it okay if I tell you that I just want to wrap you up and hold you and keep all the bad things away from you?”

 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Bucky said, and his answering smile, though still shy, lit up his face. “You’re very protective, aren’t you?” he asked teasingly.

 

“I am,” he grinned. “I can’t stand bullies, and I will do just about anything to help the people I care about.”

 

“You are a rare and wonderful man, Steve Rogers,” Bucky said quietly.

 

“So are you, Bucky Barnes,” Steve replied.

 

***

 

The rest of their meal passed quickly and easily, smiles and laughter moving back and forth between them. Despite the fact that he couldn’t play competitive sports anymore, Bucky still loved to watch, so the two men ended up in a heated discussion of their favorite teams.

 

“You were literally born and raised in New York! How is it that not a _single one_ of your favorite teams is a New York team?” Bucky asked in total bewilderment.

 

“The Dodgers are from Brooklyn!” Steve argued.

 

“They left sixty years ago, they can’t be used in that argument any more,” Bucky said, shaking his head and wagging a finger at him.

 

“But they’re _so_ good this year,” Steve said. “They are taking the World Series, I know it.”

 

“Yeah, they are really good this year,” Bucky admitted. “They’ve been fun to watch. That rookie of theirs has been unbelievable.”

 

“I have a pretty great TV and sound system, not to mention a ridiculously comfortable couch,” Steve said, waggling his eyebrows. “You’re welcome to come over and watch with me anytime.”

 

From sports they moved onto movies, and Bucky asked if Steve had seen the newest superhero movie yet. “No, I haven’t,” Steve said. “Sam’s not as into them as I am, shockingly, but he’ll usually go if I pout and give him sad eyes.” Steve then demonstrated the sad eyes for Bucky, who immediately covered his face.

 

“Oh, my god, that look is completely unfair,” Bucky laughed. “Now I feel really bad for Sam. No one with any kind of heart could say no to that face.” He took a sip of water and said cautiously, “Well, Steve, what are you doing tomorrow?”

 

“Football hasn’t officially started yet, so I have no plans,” Steve smiled, his eyes lighting up. “How about you?”

 

“The bookstore is closed on Sundays, so…” he trailed off, walking his fingers up Steve’s arm, “if _you’re_ not busy, and _I’m_ not busy, we could go see that movie together, if you’d like.”

 

Steve took Bucky’s hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of Bucky’s fingers. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” he grinned.

 

“Great!” Bucky said, smiling from ear-to-ear. “I’ll check times tomorrow morning and text you, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Steve agreed.

 

The server came then, taking their empty plates and asking if they wanted dessert. Both men begged off, saying they were too full. Once the server came back with the check, Steve put two large dollar notes inside the booklet and handed it back. “Thank you very much, and please keep the change,” he said, and then he turned to Bucky. “All set?” he asked.

 

Bucky nodded, pushing his chair back. “You can always tell the people who worked as waiters,” he smiled at Steve, as they walked out hand-in-hand. “They always tip the best.”

 

“It’s a hard job,” Steve said, nodding. “We both know that.”

 

“Thank you for dinner,” Bucky said as they strolled to Steve’s car. “That was excellent.”

 

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling. “I’ve been coming here for a few years now. My friend Tony introduced me to the owners. It’s been in the same family for more than forty years.”

 

“I can see why,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his stomach. “I’ll need to go for an extra-long run in the morning.”

 

“You run?” Steve asked, genuinely interested. They had reached his car and were standing by the passenger door.

 

“Absolutely, how else do you think I keep my girlish figure?” he joked, putting his hand on his hip and jutting it out to the side.

 

“I figured you were just genetically blessed and didn’t have to exercise at all,” Steve teased, opening the door and holding it for Bucky to get in.

 

After Steve got in and started up the car, Bucky said, “Actually, I work out almost every day—weights, cardio, and yoga, mostly. It helps to keep my left arm as limber as possible.”

 

“That’s great,” Steve said, and Bucky was pleased not to hear any sounds of pity or sympathy in his voice. “I work out, too, and I run as well.”

 

“Yeah, I can tell you work out, big boy,” Bucky said, sending him sly glances.

 

Steve blushed. “I started in college, and I was just so happy that I _could_ work out that I kept doing it. Sam went with me a lot, showed me how to use the equipment. Kind of got addicted to it. Luckily my building has a really well-equipped gym.”

 

Bucky stared off into space, a dreamy look on his face. “I have visions of you bench pressing,” he sighed, then started fanning himself. “Mmm. Wow.”

 

Steve started laughing. “Anyway,” he finally managed to say, “I was going to offer, should our schedules line up some day, we could go running together. My place is only four or four-and-a-half miles from yours.”

 

“Maybe,” Bucky said, tilting his head back and forth. “I’m not very fast.”

 

“That’s okay,” Steve smiled over at him. “I’m more interested in the company than anything else.”

 

Bucky chuckled, blushing a bit. “ _Damn,_ you’re smooth, Rogers.”

 

By the time they made it back to Bucky’s home, it was after eleven o’clock. The street was dark, only a few lampposts and the occasional passing car offering what little bit of light there was. Even though he’d been up since seven that morning and had worked all day, Bucky wasn’t even remotely tired. Wishing he could invite Steve inside, but understanding that it really was too soon, Steve parked the car and walked Bucky to the stairs that led up to his front door.

 

“I had a really wonderful time tonight, Stevie,” he said softly, looking up into his big blue eyes.

 

“So did I,” Steve replied, holding Bucky’s right hand in his left and twining their fingers together. “Movie tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Can’t wait,” Bucky said, his voice sounding perhaps a little more breathy than he’d intended.

 

Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek in his other hand and looked into his eyes for several long, searching seconds before he asked, “Would it be okay if I kissed you goodnight?”

 

“More than okay,” Bucky responded as his heart began to gallop full-speed.

 

Steve smiled and leaned forward. Bucky rested his left hand on Steve’s chest, feeling the heat from his body through his shirt, as his eyes slid shut and his chin tipped up. He felt Steve’s thumb caress lightly over one cheekbone as a soft kiss was placed on the other. Bucky sighed, smiling at the feel of Steve’s beard just barely tickling against his skin. “Stevie,” he whispered.

 

Another barely-there kiss at the corner of his lips made Bucky smile even more. “Yes, sweetheart?” Steve asked softly.

 

Bucky ran his hand from Steve’s chest, up over his shoulder and back to the nape of his neck, pulling him down until their lips met. Steve’s were soft, and lush, and so perfect against his that Bucky couldn’t help but gently trace Steve’s bottom lip with his tongue. “More,” he whispered against Steve’s mouth, and Steve slid his hand slowly from Bucky’s cheek to the back of his head, combing his fingers into Bucky’s hair and holding him close.

 

And then Steve gave him exactly what he asked for.

 

It was _hot._ It was sensual. It was so, _so_ mind-blowingly good that Bucky was literally dizzy from it, as most of the blood in his body decided to move quickly south. The kiss started gently, slowly, then built as he lightly sucked Bucky’s bottom lip between his own and nipped it with his teeth. Bucky whimpered into Steve’s mouth, and suddenly two unbelievably strong arms were wrapped around his body, pulling him tightly against Steve’s chest, making him gasp. Steve took the opportunity to lick into his mouth, rendering Bucky completely insensible. He snaked both of his arms around Steve’s neck and held on.

 

It was, without a doubt, the most incredible first kiss Bucky’d ever had. He shivered as Steve curled his fingers in his hair, gripping it in his fist and gently tugging, just enough for Bucky to feel it. The tingling in his scalp began to travel down his spine, creating a pool of heat in his abdomen, and he turned his hips a bit so that he could press himself against Steve’s muscular thigh. One of Steve’s hands traveled down to the small of his back and pulled him forward, pressing their hips together, both of them moaning softly in response to the increased contact.

 

Steve was so close to sweeping Bucky up into his arms and carrying him into the house; he was so warm, and his lips were soft and he tasted so good that Steve’s head was swimming. The gorgeous sounds Bucky was making had Steve’s shaft straining against the fabric of his jeans, and he knew he had to stop before this escalated any further.

 

He began softening his kisses, lightly scratching Bucky’s scalp, loosening his arms and slowly rubbing Bucky’s back, reining himself in bit-by-bit. It wasn’t easy, as Bucky didn’t seem to be at all interested in stopping. “We need to slow this down, baby,” Steve said huskily, kissing his way down to Bucky’s jaw, “because right now I’m really tempted to drag you inside and have my way with you.”

 

Bucky huffed a laugh, which came out sounding rough and incredibly sexy, his head tilting back. “I think that sounds like a great idea,” he murmured, sighing slowly, “but I should probably get to know you a little better first.”

 

Steve smiled against his throat and whispered, “Probably.”

 

Bucky shivered at the soft whiskers dragging across his skin, and his knees wobbled dangerously. “You might have to carry me in anyway,” he joked, his voice sounding just a little wrecked. “You’ve turned my legs to jelly.”

 

Without warning, Steve scooped him up, bridal-style. Bucky squeaked in surprise, his arms tightening around Steve’s neck, as he was carried easily up the stairs. “Holy crap, Stevie,” Bucky laughed breathlessly, as he was gently deposited on his feet right at the front door. “That was a serious, Disney-style, Prince Charming move right there.”

 

“Well, you are as pretty as a princess,” Steve said, smiling down at him. “Now go get your beauty sleep, sweetheart. We have a date tomorrow.”

 

“One more kiss?” Bucky asked sweetly, putting both hands on Steve’s chest.

 

Steve cupped his face in both hands, grinning. “Anything for you, baby,” he said softly, lowering his head to place a gentle kiss on Bucky’s gorgeously red, swollen lips. When he pulled away, Bucky slowly opened his eyes and smiled.

 

“That is… _really_ nice,” he sighed dreamily.

 

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agreed. “Go on inside.” He stepped back a little, his fingers trailing along Bucky’s jawline before falling away.

 

“Okay,” Bucky sighed again, taking his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. “Goodnight, Stevie,” he said, stepping inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“See you tomorrow, Buck. Sleep well,” Steve responded, smiling when Bucky blew him a kiss.

 

“You, too, Stevie,” he said, slowly shutting the door.

 

Steve couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face even if he had tried. He was already at home, brushing his teeth, before he realized where he was, having no conscious memory of driving home. “I could love him,” Steve said to his reflection, and if that thought brought an even bigger smile to his face…well, only the mirror knew about it.

 

***

 

The next morning, Bucky was up and out the door early for his run, enjoying the crisper morning air. His shoulder wasn’t bothering him too much, so he opted for the lighter stabilizing shoulder strap under his shirt. It wrapped around his chest and over his left shoulder and offered enough support that his arm wouldn’t be aching later.

 

Despite the reminder of what had happened Friday night with Brock, Bucky could honestly say that he was in a fantastic mood; knowing that he would see Steve in just a couple of hours buoyed his spirits. Just remembering that kiss….

 

Holy crap _that kiss._ Bucky had come so hard from jerking off after Steve had brought him home that he thought his ears might bleed. It was easily the most overwhelming, all-consuming, drop-your-pants-I’m-going-down kiss he’d ever had, and he couldn’t fucking _wait_ to do it again.

 

After his run and a shower, Bucky walked out to the kitchen for breakfast. Clint was up, making coffee for everyone, of course, and Nat had baked blueberry muffins and was already planning out her shopping list for the week. Bucky was checking movie times on his phone when Nat asked, “So what are your plans today, Buck-Buck?”

 

Bucky looked up and said, “I’m, uh, gonna catch a movie today. That new superhero movie.”

 

“Going with anyone?” Clint asked, passing over a coffee cup.

 

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said, taking a sip. He looked sharply at Clint. “What is this?”

 

“New blend,” Clint said. “What do you think?”

 

Bucky took another sip, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s good,” he said, nodding. “It’s—there’s something—it’s not cinnamon,” he said, trying to identify the flavor.

 

“Nutmeg,” Clint said, smiling. “Just a bit of nutmeg freshly grated into it right before brewing.”

 

“Very autumn-ish,” Bucky said approvingly.

 

“I need to start baking some pumpkin items,” Nat said absently, adding that to her list. “So are you seeing the movie with someone?”

 

“A friend,” Bucky said noncommittally.

 

“Same friend you went out with last night?” Nat asked, her eyebrow raised.

 

“Yes,” Bucky said, keeping his head down. Of course they knew.

 

“Anything you want to tell us?” Clint asked.

 

“No,” Bucky replied, trying to edge his way out of the kitchen.

 

“Get back here,” Nat said. “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

 

Bucky stopped, turned around, and came and sat down at the breakfast bar with his coffee and took a muffin off the plate. “Just calm down, okay? No third degree, please?”

 

“We don’t get to meet him?” Clint asked.

 

“Not yet, no,” Bucky said firmly. He took a large bite of muffin.

 

“Why not?” Nat asked, frowning at him as he chewed.

 

“Because you two are scary, that’s why!” Bucky said finally, giving her a disbelieving look.

 

“I’m not scary—she’s the scary one,” Clint said, tilting his head in Nat’s direction. She smiled.

 

“You two are a unit, you’re scary by association,” Bucky replied, taking a slightly smaller bite.

 

“We worry about you, that’s all,” Nat said. “If we can scare him, he’s not the one for you.”

 

“Can we, please, just let me see if this is going somewhere before you interrogate him?” Bucky begged, his hands clasped under his chin.

 

Nat watched him closely for a few moments before she asked softly, “Was last night your first date?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky nodded. Easy questions. This was okay. He continued eating his muffin.

 

“Did he try to have sex with you?” she asked, just as softly, but with a hard glint in her eyes.

 

“No!” Bucky shouted, nearly spraying muffin crumbs everywhere. Then, when she arched her eyebrow, he added, “Not for lack of trying on my part.”

 

“James!” Nat scolded.

 

“I’m kidding,” he laughed, then he sighed happily. “He’s a _really_ good kisser, though. And before you say anything, he asked my permission before kissing me.” He popped the last bit of muffin in his mouth. “I did tell him I was tempted to bring him inside and have my way with him.”

 

“And what did he say to that?” Clint asked, leaning on his elbows, chin in his hands.

 

“He said we needed to know each other better first,” Bucky said, smiling bashfully.

 

“Hmm,” Nat hummed. “Point in his favor.”

 

“He’s really nice,” Bucky said honestly, his cheeks turning pink. “I like him a lot.”

 

“So what’s his name?” Nat asked.

 

“I’m not telling you,” Bucky said. “You could probably find him just from that.” He got up from his chair and kissed Nat on the cheek. “Thank you for the muffin. It was delicious.”

 

“You’re welcome, honey,” Nat said, giving him a little smile.

 

“I’ll see you two later,” he said, walking down the hall to his room, his phone in his hand.

 

 

Me: _Are you up yet, big guy?_

 

Stevie: _I am, sweetheart, how are you today?_

 

Me: _Excited to see a movie! :D_

 

Stevie: _Is that the only thing you’re excited about?_

 

Me: _Until you let me do more than kiss you? Yes._

 

Stevie: _You’re a brat, aren’t you?_

 

Me: _Absolutely. XD_

 

Me: _Do you still like me?_

 

Stevie: _More and more every day. (*3*)_

 

Me: _Aww, look at you, trying to be cool. So cute._

 

Stevie: _Definitely a brat. :)_

 

Me: _So what time did you want to see the movie?_

 

Me: _The big cinema on Court St. has showings every hour._

 

Stevie: _Eleven? We could get lunch after._

 

Me: _Sounds perfect._

 

Stevie: _I’ll pick you up at 10:30, okay?_

 

Me: _See you then, big guy._

 

Stevie: _Not if I see you first, sweetheart. :)_

 

Me: _Dork. XD_

 

Stevie: _You still like me, though. ;)_

 

Me: _More and more every day. <3_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! These two just make me smile. Also:  
> 1\. Yes, I cried about Groot in GotG.  
> 2\. Yes, I am a HUGE Dodgers fan and I'm incredibly bitter about the World Series. How the hell our pitching staff didn't notice that Darvish was tipping his pitches is beyond me.
> 
> Enormous THANK YOUS to everyone for leaving kudos and comments! This story has been so much fun to write.
> 
> Next chapter: THINGS HEAT UP. Woo. Like, seriously. ;)
> 
> Any errors in travel, translation, or history are all mine. I'm letting Google off the hook this time. XD


	6. Makes Me See You More Clearly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Things get a little steamy between our boys in this chapter, and Bucky lets something slip. Whatever could that be??? XD
> 
> A couple of warnings for this chapter:  
> There will be fluff.  
> There will be a little smut (because Bucky has NEEDS, dammit).  
> There will be a short discussion of kink and kink shaming.  
> There will be a brief, but frank, discussion of past abuse/assault and ignoring safe words. It's not nice and it's not pretty. Rumlow is an asshole.

 

They spent most of Sunday together, and Bucky could easily say that he had never had so much fun at a movie in his life. Steve was just as big a superhero nerd as he was—obviously—and they sat together in the last row, talking quietly through the whole thing, dissecting the characters and plot lines. When one part of the film had Bucky laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes, Steve quietly set a package of tissues on the armrest between them—and Bucky had burst out in laughter again.

 

Afterward, they had lunch at Bucky’s favorite Chinese restaurant, and when Bucky tried to pay, Steve wouldn’t let him. “I don’t have any student loans,” he winked. Bucky had tried to protest, but then Steve had kissed him, and, well…Bucky forgot what they had been talking about.

 

They had walked and talked, just strolling up and down the street. As it was Sunday, most of the smaller, family-owned businesses were closed, so they had very little to distract them from each other. They held hands and told each other little facts about themselves, like their birthdays (“Oh, my god,” Bucky had gasped, his hand over his mouth, “you really _are_ Captain America.” And then he had giggled for ten minutes over how funny he was. Steve had tried to give him the stink-eye, but failed. Bucky was too cute.), their favorite colors (Bucky’s was red and Steve’s was blue), and favorite ice cream flavors (they both shamefully admitted to liking chocolate chip cookie dough). It was easy and comfortable, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

 

Over the next week, Steve was finalling an issue for printing, but they still spoke on the phone every day, even if it was just for a few minutes. They exchanged texts constantly, and they managed to get together for lunch on Thursday. Steve invited him out to dinner on Sunday night again; they sat close together in the small booth, holding hands under the table.

 

“What is your schedule for the week?” Steve asked as they walked back toward his car. As it was approaching the end of September, autumn had kicked in, and the bit of chilliness in the air had them walking closely together, Steve’s arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

 

“This is kind of a strange week,” Bucky said. “I open tomorrow and Tuesday, close Wednesday,” he said, “I’m working the middle of Thursday, then I’m opening Friday and the first half of Saturday, but then I have the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday off.”

 

“Is there a chance I could see you sometime during the week?” Steve asked. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, though. You must have other things you need to be doing.”

 

“I’m sure I can squeeze you in,” Bucky teased, nudging him with his shoulder. “I’ll get my errands done Wednesday morning. Are you busy next weekend? I don’t know how you feel about fall harvest festivals, but I love them, and there’s a good one next weekend.”

 

“I like them, to be honest,” Steve admitted. “I like all kinds of arts and crafts fairs, actually. Anywhere that people are being creative is good, as far as I’m concerned.”

 

“Wanna come with?” Bucky asked, gently biting the end of his tongue and smiling.

 

“I’d love to,” Steve said, grabbing the front of his hoodie with both hands and pulling him close. He brought his face down right to Bucky’s and nipped at his bottom lip, making him gasp. After kissing him rather senseless, Steve said, “I have to work late tomorrow night, but I’m free Tuesday. Do you want to get some dinner?”

 

“That sounds great,” Bucky said, a big dopey grin on his face. “You gonna let me treat this time?”

 

“Nope,” Steve said, unrepentantly unapologetic. “I like doing things for you. Makes me happy.”

 

“You’re a big teddy bear underneath this gorgeous, hard, muscly exterior, aren’t you?” Bucky asked, snaking his arms under Steve’s jacket and hugging him tight, inhaling the warm, woodsy scent that just turned Bucky to mush. Hugging Steve was the best. Well, second best; _kissing_ Steve was the best.

 

“Little bit,” he chuckled, holding Bucky close and kissing the top of his head.

 

***

 

Bucky had decided, in the few short weeks since meeting Steve, that dating him was literally the greatest thing ever. He was kind, he was funny, he was sweet, they had tons in common, he loved taking care of Bucky, he was considerate, not pushy or demanding, he didn’t ask weirdly invasive questions about Bucky’s roommates (which Bucky appreciated; he’d always thought that people who were excessively interested in someone else’s living situation were creepy), and—if Bucky was right from all the times he’d pressed up against him while they made out—he was hung like a freaking horse.

 

They’d had dinner together Tuesday night, as planned, and Steve had taken Bucky home afterward, as he usually did. On this night, however, when Steve walked him to his door to say goodnight, they’d ended up pressed together hard against the door itself, wrapped so tightly around each other that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

 

Bucky had been moaning quietly into their extremely heated kisses, and when Steve had begun nibbling his way down his throat, he’d groaned roughly, “Fuck, Stevie, you make me so hard.”

 

Steve had responded by biting a mark into the joint of his neck and his right shoulder.

 

Bucky was pleased. _Very_ pleased.

 

“It’s getting a lot tougher to say goodnight to you at the end of our dates,” he said breathlessly as they began to pull apart.

 

Steve had smiled and kissed him softly, his eyes burning. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart, I’ll be here.”

 

So Bucky made some plans. And picked up some supplies. Just in case.

 

By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, Bucky felt like he was going to explode. He was nervous, and excited, and a little scared, truthfully; it had been a long time since he was with anyone, and he wanted Steve _so much,_ but Steve had never really pushed him for more—physically, anyway. Was it because he had super-human self-control? Or was it something else? _Only one way to find out_ , he thought to himself. Hell, he figured, if Steve was only half as interested in getting into Bucky’s pants, as Bucky was in getting into his, they’d still be fine.

 

They had a great time at the fall harvest festival; strolling hand-in-hand through the crowd, visiting booths displaying different types of artwork and craft items. Steve had sputtered in surprise to see so many references to Captain America and even the SHIELD logo, which Bucky thought was both hilarious and endearing. “Hey, you’re the one who decided he should be from Brooklyn,” Bucky smiled. “They’re just honoring a hometown hero.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve blushed. “Luckily, I’m not an ass about licensing.” He even let Bucky buy him a keychain with a miniature metal version of Captain America’s shield from one of the jewelry booths. “This is really nice,” Steve said, looking at it. “It’s very well made.” And the fact that Bucky bought a set of dog tags matching Cap’s to wear on a chain around his neck? Steve just grinned ear-to-ear. “I should really consider merchandising,” he joked.

 

“You should,” Bucky purred, lifting up onto his toes to give Steve a little kiss. “I would _love_ some Captain America underwear.”

 

Steve put his hands on Bucky’s hips and pulled him close, right up against him in the middle of the crowd. “I like that idea a lot, baby,” Steve whispered huskily in his ear. “I bet they’d look real nice on my bedroom floor.”

 

Bucky locked up, frozen in place, his eyes wide as his heart rate soared. _That answers that question,_ he thought as he looked up into Steve’s eyes and saw his own desire reflected there, along with what could only be called hunger. Speaking of which…. “Are you hungry?” Bucky blurted out.

 

Steve smirked, his eyebrow arching just a bit, so Bucky knew that Steve was fully aware of just how thrown he was. His pulse was still pounding and he was sure he was blushing and he was practically tripping over his own tongue. In an obvious attempt to reel him back in, Steve wrapped Bucky in his arms and kissed the side of his head. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he murmured.

 

From that point on, there was no way Bucky could think of anything but getting Steve to come home with him—and stay. And he knew, absolutely _knew,_ that Steve wouldn’t suggest it himself; he was willing to wait for Bucky to be ready. As they ate dinner, and Steve held his hand, gently caressing it the whole time, Bucky was one-hundred-per-cent positive that he was ready—to the point that he was concerned about getting a stiffy before they could even get out of the restaurant. The track pants he was wearing wouldn’t exactly offer any protection from advertising his hard-on to everyone in the room.

 

By the time they were done with dinner, it was dark out, well past nine o’clock, and when they got to his car, Steve asked Bucky if there was anything else he wanted to do that night. Taking a deep breath, Bucky replied, “Yes,” and curled his fingers into Steve’s jacket, pulling him close. Leaning in and standing on his toes, Bucky kissed him hard.

 

Steve took Bucky’s face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his cheekbones, and then he absolutely flipped Bucky’s world upside-down. Pressing him back against the side of his car, he wedged his thigh between Bucky’s legs. Steve kissed him like he was going to war; passionately, desperately, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt for the brunet with this one kiss. His fingers were tangled in Bucky’s hair, holding him still, and as they broke apart to breathe Steve murmured, “God, baby, you taste so fucking good.”

 

Bucky whimpered loudly, far louder than he would have had he remembered that they were outside. Steve took his mouth again, and Bucky moaned. He was already so hard by this point—and he could feel that Steve was just as aroused—that he was practically humping Steve’s leg. “Please,” he whispered, pulling away a few millimeters to speak, “please come home with me.”

 

“Yes, baby,” Steve said against his lips, “anything for you, anything.”

 

They managed to break apart long enough for them both to get in the car. The stick shift prevented any automobile acrobatics—otherwise Bucky would have jumped him right there, he was sure—and Steve got them to Bucky’s place in record time. He found parking only a few doors down, and they managed to walk (albeit very quickly) to his home and up the stairs before Steve thought to ask, “Roommates?”

 

“Early risers, already sleeping,” Bucky said, opening the front door and pulling Steve inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Shoes,” Bucky whispered, toeing his off and leaving them by the door, Steve following suit, then Bucky grabbed his hand and dragged him into the front room. He didn’t bother turning on any lights, as the streetlights outside filtered through the sheer curtains on the windows, providing enough light to see by. They both dropped their jackets on the floor as Bucky pushed Steve down onto the couch and climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs.

 

They attacked each other, their kisses hard and insistent and sloppy and so goddamn hot that Bucky couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t think at all, really; there was nothing but the touch of Steve’s hands on his body and the need to rut against him like a damn animal in heat. Steve encouraged him, squeezing his ass and pulling Bucky tightly against him while he thrust up from underneath to press their clothed erections together.

 

The sensation was so incredible, so _good_ that Bucky was helpless to do anything but chase it. “Oh, fuck, Stevie,” Bucky moaned, rolling his hips and pushing his fingers through Steve’s hair.

 

“Does that feel good, baby?” Steve asked, the rough timbre of his voice sending shivers down Bucky’s spine.

 

“Yes, oh, my god, yes,” Bucky sighed, his fingers tightening in the soft golden strands as he continued to grind on the big blond’s lap.

 

“Been watchin’ your cute little ass in these clingy pants for hours,” Steve whispered huskily against his jaw, as he slid one hand into the back of Bucky’s pants, his fingers gently working their way just under the band of his boxer briefs. “Sweetest, sexiest li’l thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

There was a sudden tightening of _want_ in Bucky’s lower abdomen and he groaned, “Oh, fuck yes, _Daddy._ ”

 

It took a second or two for Bucky to realize that Steve had frozen beneath him. A second or two after that, Bucky realized what he had just blurted out. He stiffened up completely, his stomach flipped upside down, and he stopped breathing. There was total silence for several agonizing moments as he waited for his world to come crashing down.

 

“What?” Steve asked quietly, his arms locked in place around Bucky’s body, not letting him move away.

 

“Nothing! I mean, I didn’t say anything, I just—“ Bucky sputtered, his heart racing as dread and anxiety began to spill over him.

 

“Shh, sweetheart, calm down,” Steve said, moving his hand from Bucky’s ass to rub comfortingly over his back. “I just want to know if you said what I think you said.” When Bucky remained utterly silent other than for the sound of his pounding heart and shallow breathing, Steve asked, “Did you call me ‘Daddy’?”

 

On the verge of panicking (and throwing up), Bucky clenched his eyes shut and buried them against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, it just came out, I didn’t mean to say it, I swear—“

 

“Whoa, honey, look at me,” Steve purred, suddenly sounding very confident and in charge of the situation. Bucky pulled back hesitantly, so Steve gently tipped his chin up with one finger. “Bucky, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise, everything’s fine,” he said, kissing Bucky softly on the cheek. “Can you look at me? Please?”

 

Bucky reluctantly met Steve’s gaze, looking at him through his lashes as he bit his bottom lip hard, fully expecting to see disgust and revulsion—or regret and discomfort, at the very least—in Steve’s eyes. Instead, Steve was smiling at him, and he looked anything but disgusted. He seemed, to Bucky’s disbelief, almost hopeful. “Can I ask you a question, Bucky?”

 

Pushing down his nervousness (and queasiness), Bucky nodded.

 

Steve gently brushed Bucky’s hair back from his face. “Do you want me to be your Daddy, sweetheart?”

 

Still too scared (and nauseous, frankly) to answer right away, Bucky instead responded quietly with, “Do you want to be my Daddy?” He had not intended for his voice to sound so breathless and high-pitched, but his nerves currently had a stranglehold on his airway and vocal chords. The effect this had on Steve, though, was immediate and gratifying.

 

Bucky was not prepared for the heat and desire that he saw flaring in Steve’s eyes. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, his voice going deep and dark and flowing over Bucky’s skin like smooth whiskey, making him shiver as his eyes slid shut. Steve cupped his cheek in his big, warm hand and pressed a firm, hard kiss to Bucky’s bite-swollen lips before saying, “I would love to be your Daddy, you sweet, perfect, beautiful boy.”

 

“Oh, god,” Bucky choked out, a sob catching in his throat, going practically boneless against Steve’s chest. Relief and elation flooded his system, making him light-headed.

 

Steve wrapped his big, strong arms around Bucky, holding him close and tucking his head against his shoulder. “My gorgeous little boy,” Steve cooed soothingly, stroking his long, soft hair. “That was scary for you to tell me, wasn’t it?” he asked. He could still feel Bucky’s heart racing, and the only time his little boy’s heart should race like that should be because his Daddy was making him feel good. Not from fear or anxiety, never. When Bucky nodded against his shoulder, Steve said, “You were so brave, I’m so glad you told me. You’ve made your Daddy so happy.”

 

“You’re really okay with this?” Bucky asked hesitantly, wanting so badly to believe it.

 

“So, so much, honey. I’m so happy, I can’t even get the words out,” Steve said, and Bucky could hear the sincerity in his voice; it was so warm and soft. He held Bucky close for a few minutes longer, speaking to him softly, feeling him calm down.

 

Eventually Bucky started to get a little squirmy, as happiness began to course through him. “Are you alright now, baby?” Steve asked. “Feeling better?”

 

Bucky picked his head up, and Steve was glad to see that he was smiling. “Yes, Daddy,” he said shyly, still having a little trouble meeting Steve’s eyes.

 

“Are you feeling good enough that we can go back to what we were doing before?” he asked, running his hands down Bucky’s back to the waist of his pants and sliding his fingertips under his briefs. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but Daddy would love to take care of you and make you feel good.”

 

“I—I think I’d like to, Daddy,” Bucky replied, rolling his hips experimentally. The anxiety of the situation had softened him considerably, but feeling Steve’s still-hard shaft underneath him sent a _zing_ of pleasure racing up his spine, forcing a breathy moan from his throat.

 

“You like to rub up against your Daddy, don’t you, baby?” Steve asked softly, grinning when Bucky smiled and nodded, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure. “Do you feel that, sweetheart? Daddy’s so hard for you,” Steve whispered, pressing his pelvis up as Bucky rolled forward. Bucky’s fingers curled into his shoulders and he whimpered, biting his bottom lip again, this time in an attempt to muffle himself. Seeing what Bucky was trying to do, Steve murmured, “Such pretty noises you make. I’m so lucky to have such a perfect little boy.”

 

Bucky’s whole body lit up, so overwhelmed at receiving what he’d been craving for so long, that his head fell back and he cried out, his cock hardening so fast that the sudden shift in blood flow nearly made him dizzy.

 

Steve pulled him closer so that their chests were flush together, and he began mouthing at Bucky’s throat just above his collar, whispering words of praise between kisses. He kept one hand in the center of Bucky’s back, holding him close, the other hand slid under Bucky’s briefs, the fingertips making soft circles at the base of his spine, just above the cleft of his ass. Bucky rolled his hips faster, harder, his back arching into Steve’s hands. “Please,” Bucky moaned, jerking erratically as his brain couldn’t decide whether to press forward against Steve’s insanely hard body or push back into his lightly teasing fingers.

 

“What do you need, baby boy?” Steve asked, licking a thin line over his Adam’s apple.

 

Bucky shuddered as the soft whiskers of Steve’s beard tickled the sensitive skin of his throat. “Please…lower,” he whimpered, unable to string more than two coherent words together.

 

“Touch you lower?” Steve asked, his voice gravelly and thick, as he inched his hand just a bit more down Bucky’s backside.

 

“Yes, more, lower, please,” Bucky begged as he tried to arch his back even more while still rutting against the bulge in Steve’s pants.

 

“How much lower, baby boy?” Steve ground out, trying to focus on Bucky’s pleasure, trying to give Bucky exactly what he wanted and needed. When Bucky only whined in response, Steve said, “Daddy needs for you to say it, sweetheart.” Bucky hid his face against Steve’s neck, clearly wanting to tell him but afraid to say the words. “I only want to make you feel good, sweet boy, you can tell me.”

 

Almost sobbing, the need finally overcoming the nerves that were trying to choke him, Bucky turned his head slightly to whisper, “Please touch me _down there,_ Daddy. I need it.”

 

“ _’Down there,’_ baby? You mean your pretty little hole?” Steve asked softly, kissing Bucky’s cheek as he rutted against him.

 

“Yes, there, _please!_ ” Bucky cried, rapidly losing control.

 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he purred, sliding his hand far down into the back of Bucky’s briefs. As soon as his fingers began to carefully circle the tightly furled ring of muscle, Bucky threw his head back and gasped, his eyes wide. “ _Fuck,_ baby boy, you’re so beautiful,” Steve growled.

 

“ _Oh!_ Oh, god, Daddy, _yes!_ I’m—I’m gonna—“ he stammered, grinding down hard as his orgasm slammed through him like a dump truck. His abdominal muscles contracted, his hips bucking hard against Steve’s, and his breath was punched out of him in panting gasps. “ _Unh, unh, unh,_ ” he grunted, squeezing Steve’s shoulders so hard his knuckles were white.

 

“Oh, baby, look at you, so gorgeous, such a pretty little thing,” Steve cooed, gentling his touch as Bucky came down. He was breathing heavily, his head having fallen forward to rest on Steve’s shoulder again. Steve continued to caress his back with long, slow circles as he slid his other hand from Bucky’s pants to rest on his hip. “That was so amazing, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, thank you.”

 

Bucky tucked himself into Steve’s chest, hiding his face against Steve’s throat, as that seemed to be his safe place. He was loose and relaxed as his breathing slowed, draped heavily over Steve’s body, and Steve felt a happiness and a contentment that he hadn’t been sure he would ever get to experience. He felt, more than heard, Bucky sigh, the soft warmth of his breath ghosting over his collarbone, and Steve smiled, enjoying cuddling Bucky close. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head, “how are you?”

 

Bucky nuzzled against him. “Good, Daddy,” he mumbled a few seconds later. “Tired.” His voice sounded muzzy, sleepy, and entirely comfortable, as if he would be more than happy to drift off right where he was.

 

“Do you want to go to your room? I can get you cleaned up?” Steve asked, patting him lightly on the bottom. Bucky whined a little, clearly unhappy that he needed to move, but after a few moments he picked his head up.

 

“Okay,” he said, turning his body to drop onto the couch next to Steve, then looking down at the undeniably damp spot on the front of his pants, visible even in the dim light. “Ugh.”

 

“C’mere, baby boy,” Steve chuckled, getting to his feet and extending a hand to Bucky. Once they were both upright, Steve turned Bucky around and nudged him in the direction of the hallway. Bucky’s movements were sluggish and slow, his feet dragging as he walked, and Steve was entirely unable to keep the smile off his face.

 

Inside his room, which had sunshine yellow walls and medium-toned wood furniture, Bucky turned on the light, shuffled over to his bed, turned around, and fell onto it, face up. Steve laughed, walking to the bed and leaning over to look at Bucky’s face. “Can I take your pants off?” he asked, reaching up to trace a thumb along one cheekbone.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky hummed, a little smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “but you need to take yours off, too.”

 

“I do?” Steve smiled in return. “And why is that, my sweet boy?”

 

“Because I want you to feel good, too,” Bucky replied, his relaxed smile turning decidedly less than innocent. He lifted his hand to palm Steve’s crotch, feeling that he was still mostly hard in his jeans. “You were so nice to me, Daddy, and I want to be nice to you.”

 

“Is that so?” Steve said, swallowing hard. “You don’t have to, baby. I’m perfectly fine taking care of myself later.”

 

“But I’m already so messy,” Bucky cajoled, untying his track pants and pushing them and his briefs down over his hips. His lower abdomen was wet, slick and shiny, and Steve bit back a moan. “I want you to make me even messier.”

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, helping Bucky get out of his wet, sticky clothing. Once he was free of his pants, Bucky scooted backward so that he was fully on his bed, his head on the pillow. He tugged his shirt up so that his chest was exposed, his dusky pink nipples tightening in the cooler bedroom air as he pinched them playfully. His cock lay spent, soft and fat on his thigh, his shaft and upper thighs also wet with his seed. “You’re…god, you’re so beautiful,” Steve sighed, unable to tear his eyes away. Bucky’s muscles were long and lean, defined but not bulky. His chest was smooth, and the patch of dark hair at the base of his shaft was trimmed short. His legs were stunning, strong and athletic.

 

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky whispered, holding his arms out to Steve. “Want to feel you.”

 

“Okay, baby, anything you want,” Steve said, unbuttoning his jeans. “I’ll always give you what you want.” He pushed his pants to the floor and stepped out of them. “Is it alright if I take my shirt off?” he asked, kicking his pants away, then taking off his socks and dropping them as well.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky nodded, smiling, before his eyes widened slightly. “I want to keep my shirt on, though,” he said quickly.

 

“That’s fine, honey, however you’re most comfortable,” Steve assured him as he peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it over to land beside his pants.

 

“Wow,” Bucky whispered, taking in the acres of gorgeous, muscled glory that was Steve Rogers. His skin was a delicious golden-peach color, and his chest, which was simply ridiculous, was lightly dusted with dark blond hair. Bucky had never seen pecs like his on an actual human being, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on them—them and every other part of Steve’s body, truthfully. Bucky’s eyes tried to take it all in at once; his abs, chest, shoulders, arms, thighs—it was all so freaking beautiful. Every muscle on his body was big, thick, and cut, and _oh my god_ just so gorgeous. Despite having just come astoundingly hard less than ten minutes earlier, his cock twitched encouragingly.

 

Steve hadn’t come earlier, however, and his erection was tenting the front of his boxer briefs obscenely. “Is this okay?” Steve asked, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear.

 

“Yes, yes, please,” Bucky breathed. He reached over to his bedside table and pulled the drawer open, retrieving a bottle of lube. He lay back just in time to see Steve’s briefs hit the floor. “Holy fuck,” he exhaled incredulously, getting an eyeful of Steve’s completely naked form for the first time.

 

It was no wonder that Bucky had been able to feel Steve’s cock through his jeans when they’d been making out. The miracle was that Steve hadn’t ripped the fly out of his pants with the size of the rod he was packing. Long and thick, especially at the base, with neatly trimmed dark blond hair, his cock stood proud of his body, curling up toward his abdomen. It was gorgeous, and mouthwatering, and really fucking hot, and…well, it was a little intimidating, frankly. There was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that Steve was the biggest man—in _every_ way—that he had ever been involved with.

 

Once he was able to form a complete thought beyond _huge,_ _amazing,_ and _dick,_ Bucky took in the entirety of Steve’s appearance. It really was a little unfair that one person embodied so much perfection, Bucky thought fleetingly. But, his internal voice reasoned, Steve was probably the nicest person he’d ever met, so if anyone deserved this completely ridiculous level of previously-thought-to-be-unattainable perfection, it was Steve.

 

Steve smiled, actually blushing a little as he put a knee on Bucky’s bed. “Like what you see?” he asked, crawling over to where Bucky was waiting for him.

 

Bucky spread his legs so that Steve could kneel between them and popped open the bottle of lube. He drizzled a liberal amount over his cock, flinching a little at the cold liquid. “So much,” he said, closing the bottle and tossing it on the bed. “Come on, Daddy,” he urged excitedly, “mess me up.”

 

“Oh, Bucky,” Steve moaned softly. He ran both hands up Bucky’s legs from his ankles to his knees, pushing them up toward Bucky’s chest. “Look at you,” he sighed, opening Bucky to his gaze. “So gorgeous. So unbelievably perfect.”

 

Bucky blushed, a little bashful about the close scrutiny. Seeing this, Steve lowered his feet back to the bed, and then leaned over Bucky’s body to place small kisses along his jawline. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?” he asked, settling his forearms outside of Bucky’s shoulders and brushing his cheekbone with the back of his fingers.

 

“Yes,” Bucky said hurriedly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s torso. “I mean, I’m not ready for, you know, everything yet,” he said. “I’m, uh, definitely going to need to work my way up to that, but I really want you to feel good.”

 

“You’re such a sweet boy,” he whispered, slowly dropping his hips to meet Bucky’s. At the first contact of skin-on-skin, they both groaned. “Oh, baby,” Steve exhaled, his shaft sliding wetly alongside Bucky’s, which was making a valiant effort to harden again quickly, “you—you’re so—oh, fuck.”

 

“Mmm, Daddy,” Bucky moaned, his fingers digging into the thick muscles of Steve’s back, “that feels _so_ good.” He picked his legs up, curling them around Steve’s thighs.

 

“It really does,” Steve said breathily, chuckling a little. He made small movements, levering his hips back and forth slowly, spreading the lube around thoroughly. Kissing Bucky deeply, swallowing every sweet moan, Steve rolled his pelvis smoothly and easily, loving how Bucky enthusiastically encouraged him to continue.

 

Bucky had grabbed Steve’s ass with both hands, pulling Steve onto him with every downward roll. “Jesus, Steve,” Bucky rasped after just a couple of minutes, “I think I’m hard again.”

 

“You want me to stop so you can check?” Steve asked teasingly, grinning as Bucky shook his head decisively. He was panting by this point, making conversation difficult, but he was happy to keep kissing and nibbling and dragging his teeth over Bucky’s beautiful skin. He ducked down to lick over a hard nipple, and Bucky grunted as his hips jerked hard. “Sensitive, sweetheart?” he smiled down at the gorgeous boy beneath him.

 

“Very,” Bucky answered jaggedly, only to yelp loudly when Steve did it again to his other tight peak. “Fuck,” he swore, “I might come again if you keep that up.”

 

No sooner were the words out of his mouth that Steve was folding himself down, sucking a tight, pink nipple into his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers.

 

“Oh, my god!” Bucky cried, his back arching until his spine popped.

 

Steve kept at it, switching sides back and forth, savoring every moment of Bucky writhing underneath him even as he continued to rub their cocks together, the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. He could feel Bucky’s legs begin to shake and twitch, could hear the pitch and volume of Bucky’s moans get higher, and soon he was gasping, “Steve—oh, Jesus, I’m getting close.”

 

“Say it, baby boy,” Steve growled against his chest, sucking the sensitive bud hard and dragging his teeth across it as he reached down between them and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks.

 

”Oh, fuck, Daddy, you’re making me come!” Bucky keened, grabbing Steve’s biceps and digging his fingers in. “ _Oh, oh, my god, oh,_ ” he panted, every muscle contracting as milky white fluid spurted from his slick, swollen shaft, adding to the mess covering his stomach.

 

“Sweet little boy, fuck, you’re so pretty, goddamn,” Steve rambled, the words pouring out of his mouth as he watched Bucky fall apart beneath him. “I’m gonna come, baby, so hard, gonna come all over you, oh _fuck, uhn,_ ” he moaned, the orgasm shuddering through him, shooting hot and thick over his hand and Bucky’s abdomen and chest. They rocked against each other, Steve’s head dropping to Bucky’s shoulder as the aftershocks moved through them both. “Oh, my god, sweetheart,” he panted, kissing his way up Bucky’s throat and nuzzling under his ear, “you are so beautiful.”

 

“I’m kind of a mess right now,” he laughed tiredly, his arms flopping down to rest beside him.

 

“A beautiful mess,” Steve smiled, kissing him softly. He groaned as he pushed himself up onto his knees. Looking down at Bucky’s stomach, he grinned. “Oh, wow. That is gorgeous.”

 

“You marked me good, Daddy,” Bucky said, his voice quieting down a bit, sounding a little shy, a little uncertain.

 

“Does that mean I get to keep you, baby boy?” Steve asked him, trailing his fingers up Bucky’s thigh, a fond expression on his face.

 

“Do you want to? Really?” Bucky asked, looking like he wanted to believe him, but he was almost afraid to. “You don’t mind that I call you…that?”

 

“No, sweetheart, I don’t mind at all,” Steve said, shaking his head, a big grin on his face. “In fact, I—I like it. I really like it.” He reached for a box of wet wipes on the bedside table. He started by quickly wiping his hands, stomach, and shaft, and then began to gently clean up Bucky’s abdomen and thighs, then carefully wiping off his softened dick. “I’ve wanted to have this with someone, actually, but just never….” He trailed off.

 

“You’ve never been a Daddy before?” Bucky asked, smiling a little as he watched Steve care for him.

 

“I tried to be, once, but my ex wasn’t into it, even though she pretended to be for a little while,” Steve said, shrugging. He gave Bucky a little half-smile. “Took me a while to see she was faking her interest in it, but as you know, we weren’t at all compatible anyway.” He dropped the soiled tissue onto the growing pile and grabbed another. “How about you? Have you ever had a Daddy before?”

 

“No,” Bucky shook his head, huffing a bitter-sounding laugh. “I said it to my ex once, kind of joking around to test the waters, you know, to see if he was interested, and he definitely wasn’t.” Bucky looked away, picking at the sheets. “He said Daddy kink was for freaks and degenerates.”

 

“What?” Steve asked, frowning. “That’s horrible. Is that why you….” he trailed off, his eyes questioning.

 

“Why I freaked out?” Bucky asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he sighed. “He never failed to let me know that only perverts were into that.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Steve said firmly, but not angrily, shaking his head as he finished cleaning them both. “There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults enjoying each other.”

 

“Well, our sex life was never about what I wanted, so I wasn’t really all that surprised,” Bucky continued. “He liked to tie me up, which I didn’t mind for the most part, except for the last time.” He frowned then, and swallowed, as if talking about it was painful.

 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Steve asked. He cleared the pile of tissues and dropped them into a wastebasket by the side of the bed, and then lay down next to Bucky, placing a large, warm hand in the center of Bucky’s chest. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know, just so I never do what he did.”

 

Bucky laughed then, as if the idea of Steve behaving _anything_ like Brock was completely ludicrous. Which it was. “You don’t have to worry about that, Stevie,” Bucky said, smiling at him. “You two are as different as night and day.” He scooted closer to Steve, who lay back on the bed and cuddled Bucky into his chest. “I just hate even thinking about him while I’m with you.”

 

“I understand that, sweetheart,” Steve said, caressing the warm skin of Bucky’s back, “as long as you know that you can talk to me any time, about anything.”

 

“I’m starting to,” Bucky smiled, snuggling close. He took a deep breath. “Okay. So Brock liked to tie me up pretty often,” he began, tracing little patterns with his fingers on Steve’s enormous pecs. “He was very controlling, in every sense of the word. But, like I said, I didn’t usually mind that much. Well, the last time he did it, he pulled the bindings too tight and twisted my left arm into a bad position—he nearly dislocated my shoulder. Even when I was practically screaming he wouldn’t loosen it.”

 

“Oh, my god,” Steve blurted, his arms tightening around Bucky reflexively, as if he could protect him from his past. “What the hell?”

 

“Oh, it gets worse,” Bucky said, his voice becoming flat and emotionless. “When I started begging him to stop, when I was saying ‘red’ over and over, he didn’t just ignore me, he gagged me to shut me up.”

 

“Son of a bitch,” Steve growled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

 

“When he was finally done, he untied me. I cleaned up, got dressed, and walked out. Never went back, never called him again, blocked his number, shut down my social media, the whole bit,” Bucky murmured. “I even moved out of my apartment. Unfortunately, he knows where I work, and he does deliveries for a publisher that we carry, so he shows up at the bookstore every once in a while and tries to talk to me. And I told you what happened a couple of weeks ago.”

 

“I won’t ask if you called the police, but have you considered calling his boss? Tell whoever he works for that this asshole is harassing you?” Steve asked, holding Bucky close. He was absolutely furious on Bucky’s behalf, but he knew getting angry in this particular moment wouldn’t help Bucky. He needed comfort and understanding, not righteous and justified fury.

 

“Nick called his boss. Unfortunately, that guy’s an asshole, too, so I really doubt he cares,” Bucky sighed, enjoying the feel of Steve’s arms around him. “I’m hoping that if I keep ignoring him, he’ll eventually get bored and leave me alone.”

 

“He’d better pray I’m not around if he shows up,” Steve said, not entirely able to keep the possessive tone out of his voice. “I’ll take him out back and beat the shit out of him.”

 

“That’s sweet,” Bucky said, curling his right arm around Steve’s torso and squeezing, “but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

 

“It’d be no trouble, sweetheart, believe me,” Steve said softly, kissing Bucky’s forehead while he rubbed his back in long, warm strokes where his shirt was still pushed up. “Now,” he said, “I’m going to get a warm washcloth so I can get you properly cleaned up, okay, baby boy?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky grinned, rolling onto his back so Steve could sit up and scoot to the side of the bed. “Bathroom’s right across the hall.”

 

“Be right back,” Steve smiled at him.

 

It only took a minute or so for Steve to wash his hands, wet a washcloth with warm water and wipe himself down, and then bring the cloth back to Bucky’s room to wash away the remaining lube and come that was drying on his stomach and thighs. Once he was done, he gathered up Bucky’s dirty clothes and took everything into the bathroom to put into the laundry basket.

 

When he came back this time, Bucky was getting a fresh pair of briefs out of his dresser and stepping into them. He had already changed his shirt, swapping out the long-sleeves for a soft, short-sleeved t-shirt, and was setting his new dog tags on the dresser. Steve grabbed his own clothes off the floor and sifted through them to find his boxer briefs. As he was stepping into them, Bucky spoke up. “Steve?” he said quietly.

 

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve responded.

 

“Do you have to go?” he asked, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

 

Steve smiled. “No, I don’t have to go.” When Bucky didn’t say anything, he asked, “Would you like me to stay?”

 

Bucky looked at him then, still so shy and uncertain, but hopeful. “Would you mind? If we just slept—I mean, we can kiss and snuggle and stuff, but I’m not—“ he broke off, redness tingeing his cheeks.

 

Steve walked over to where Bucky was leaning against his dresser and gently cupped his cheek in his palm. “I would love to stay with you tonight,” Steve said softly, before leaning down to kiss him tenderly. When he pulled back, he said, “I will give you anything you need, take care of you any way you want me to, and _only_ in the way you want me to, alright?”

 

“Alright,” Bucky replied, and he looked so happy, so sweetly innocent, that Steve couldn’t help but pull him into his arms and tuck him close, under his chin. “Thanks, Stevie,” he whispered.

 

“I will need one thing, though,” Steve said, sounding very serious.

 

“What?” Bucky asked, concerned.

 

“I’ll need a toothbrush,” Steve said in a very formal voice. “Do you have a spare?”

 

Bucky snorted, hugging him. “Oh, my god, you dork. Yes, I have a toothbrush for you. My roommate buys them by the dozens. She and I are very serious about oral hygiene.”

 

Steve pulled back a little to look at him. “Is she a dentist?” he asked, confused.

 

“Nope. She’s a chef,” Bucky answered, stepping back and taking Steve’s hand. “C’mon, let’s brush.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope that the trigger warnings were okay. I didn't want to make it seem horrible, but I didn't want to downplay it, either.
> 
> How do you like Daddy Steve? I <3 him. He's so sweet. And adorable. Absolutely huggable.
> 
> Thanks to you all for the comments and kudos! I'm loving these characters and I'm having a lot of fun with this story. :D


	7. Oh, Baby, Now I Can See You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wakey, wakey! Time to meet Bucky's roommates! :D
> 
> Also: They discover they have a common enemy. 'Cause yeah, we're not done with those assholes yet.

 

The next morning, Steve woke up curled around Bucky’s warm, still-sleeping body. As promised, they had only slept—after sharing quite a few kisses and snuggles. The sunrise found him nuzzling the back of Bucky’s neck, sighing happily.

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, noting how Bucky pulled his arm tighter around his body, wriggling a bit to get deeper into the big blond’s embrace. “Morning, sweetheart,” he whispered, smiling into Bucky’s hair, even as he tried to keep his morning erection away from the little brunet’s firm and luscious ass.

 

“Morning,” Bucky replied sleepily. He began pushing his backside into Steve’s pelvis, forcing Steve to angle his hips back even further. Bucky kept scooting backwards, Steve responding by turning his pelvis away, until Bucky was nearly pushing Steve’s lower half off the side of the bed, giggling like a little kid.

 

“Bucky,” Steve growled, with no actual anger in his voice, “you’re playing with fire, young man.”

 

“If I’m bad, will you spank me?” Bucky asked cheekily, then he yelped when Steve pinched his thigh.

 

“Little brat,” Steve laughed, rubbing the spot he pinched to soothe any sting. Bucky rolled onto his back and pushed himself up onto his elbows, grimacing slightly. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked, concern immediately etching his features.

 

“Nothing new, just normal morning shoulder stiffness,” Bucky said, shrugging off his discomfort.

 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, leaning over to kiss Bucky’s t-shirt covered left shoulder. “Anything I can do to help loosen you up?”

 

When Steve met Bucky’s eyes, he was surprised to see Bucky’s wide-eyed expression. “What?” Steve asked, confused.

 

Bucky swallowed, then cleared his throat before saying, “Um, no, it’s okay, really. I just need to move it around a little and it’ll be fine.” He pushed himself up slightly to lean against the headboard and gave Steve a shy little half-smile.

 

“If you’re sure,” Steve said, leaning back to look up at Bucky’s sleep-mussed hair and face with a grin. “You are absolutely adorable in the morning.”

 

“So says the epitome of human perfection,” Bucky replied, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, do you ever _not_ look amazing?”

 

“Pshh,” Steve scoffed, rolling over to wedge himself between Bucky’s legs and lay his head on his chest. “Perfection is boring and overrated.”

 

Bucky put a hand on Steve’s head and lightly scratched his scalp. “Well, I wouldn’t mind giving boring and overrated a try.”

 

“I think _you’re_ amazing,” Steve mumbled, moving into Bucky’s fingers like a cat. “Gorgeous and sweet and wonderful and smart and—“

 

“Okay, okay,” Bucky laughed, kissing the top of Steve’s head, “you don’t need to butter me up, you’ve convinced me. Mmm,” he hummed, kissing Steve’s head again, “even your hair is minty fresh.”

 

“Peppermint shampoo,” Steve smiled, turning his head to kiss Bucky’s stomach. Just then, he heard a tiny rumble. “Hungry?” he asked, chuckling.

 

“A bit, yes,” Bucky admitted, smirking. “I worked up an appetite last night.” He inhaled slowly. “Ah, yes—coffee.”

 

“Hmm?” Steve made a questioning noise. “Coffee?”

 

“My roommate makes the _best_ coffee,” Bucky said, grinning. “Let’s go get some.”

 

“Bathroom first,” Steve said, rolling over so Bucky could move.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said, hopping up and walking over to his dresser. “Mind if I go first?”

 

“Go ahead, sweetheart, I need to put some clothes on,” Steve said, sitting up on the side of the bed.

 

“Meet you in the kitchen,” Bucky chirped, pulling some lounge pants from a drawer and coming over to give Steve a quick kiss before ducking out into the hallway.

 

A couple of minutes later, Steve was dressed and Bucky was heading down the hallway. As Steve shut the bathroom door, he heard a man’s voice announce loudly, “Bunky!” to which Bucky’s voice responded, “Clunky!”

 

Steve chuckled to himself as he went about his business, before the thought occurred to him, _Didn’t Bucky say his roommate was a woman?_

 

When he was done, he wandered barefoot down the hall in the direction Bucky had gone, ostensibly toward the kitchen that he had not seen the night before. As he approached, he heard the unknown man’s voice say, “Steve? Big, blonde, bearded, beefy Steve? _That_ Steve?”

 

Bucky’s response sounded shy, but happy. “Um, yeah….“

 

“Guess that explains the noises I heard last night,” he chuckled.

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky groaned. “Don’t you dare embar—“

 

“Steve!” the first man interrupted with a grin, upon spotting Steve at the end of the hall.

 

“Clint!” Steve replied, thoroughly surprised. “You’re Bucky’s roommate?” Steve turned to Bucky. “I thought you said your roommate was a woman.”

 

“One of them is.” An intimidatingly pretty redhead in a long, green silk robe slipped past Steve into the kitchen and headed straight for the large coffee cup that was waiting for her at the end of the counter. “I’m Natasha,” she said, taking a sip of the hot beverage. “Mmm, thank you, dear,” she said, leaning over to kiss Clint on the cheek. Then she turned her attention back on Steve. “And who are you?”

 

Bucky had recovered enough by this point to make the introduction. “Steve, this is Nat, pastry chef extraordinaire, the provider of toothbrushes, and Clint’s wife. Nat, this is Steve, comic book artist, writer, and publisher, and my…boyfriend?” he finished uncertainly, his nose scrunched up.

 

Steve walked over to Bucky and cupped his cheeks in his big hands. “You can call me anything you like, sweetheart, but I would love to have you call me your boyfriend,” Steve said with a smile right before dropping a soft kiss on Bucky’s upturned lips.

 

“I think I just swooned a little,” Nat said, smirking behind her coffee cup.

 

“Yeah, Steve and I go way back,” Clint said with a grin. “It’s been, what? A month and a half since you and Sam first came into the café?”

 

Steve turned to face him, wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind. “Yeah, it’s been about that. All I hear from Sam now is _‘When are we going to the bookstore?’_ and _‘Can we go get coffee and pastries again?’"_

 

“Sam is a very smart man,” Clint chuckled. He turned back to the professional-grade coffee machine-slash-espresso maker to prepare another cup.

 

“You’ve ruined him for any other coffee,” Steve grinned, nuzzling the side of Bucky’s head. He turned to Nat. “I hope Clint passed on our compliments for your pastries—they’re incredible.”

 

“Thank you,” Nat said evenly. “I’ve worked hard to establish a good reputation.”

 

“And speaking of incredible—was the kitchen like this when you moved in?” Steve asked, looking around.

 

The kitchen was a professional chef’s dream. A double-wide, built-in refrigerator, a six-burner gas stove with full-size double ovens, gleaming white cabinets and grey quartz countertops and backsplash with grey, white, and steel tile accents. The non-skid tile floor was a darker grey than the counters and was dotted with several ergonomic mats. There was a breakfast bar with room for three and a separate eat-in area with a table that seated six.

 

“Oh, god no,” Nat scoffed. “Clint and I gutted it when we bought the place. We know all the good restaurant suppliers in the area, so we were able to get everything we wanted at cost.”

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Bucky asked, stepping forward to take two cups that Clint was setting on the counter. “Thanks,” he said, sipping from one and handing the other to Steve. “I lucked out that they had a guest room I could rent after I left Brock.”

 

Nat and Clint both looked up sharply. “Bucky,” Nat said quietly, “you told him about Brock?”

 

“Yup,” Bucky said, smiling when Steve’s eyes rolled back after taking a sip of coffee. “It’s good, huh?”

 

“So good,” Steve agreed. “Thanks, Clint.”

 

“No problem, man,” Clint said, watching Bucky.

 

Taking another sip of coffee, Steve looked at the two people who were looking at each other with serious expressions. “You have concerns about Bucky and me seeing each other?” he asked, noting Bucky’s look of surprise.

 

“Not about you, personally, but about anyone Bucky is seeing,” Nat said, sitting at the breakfast bar and giving Steve an appraising look.

 

“Nat, come on,” Bucky whined, sitting at the table.

 

Steve sat down next to him, pulling his chair close, and put his right arm across the back of Bucky’s chair. “You two obviously care about Bucky a great deal, so feel free to ask me anything.”

 

“Oh, god,” Bucky groaned, folding his arms on the table and dropping his head onto them.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve chuckled, putting his big, warm hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades and rubbing comfortingly. “I don’t mind.”

 

“How old are you, Steve?” Nat asked, getting right to the heart of the discussion.

 

“I turned thirty-three in July,” Steve replied.

 

“On July fourth, if you can believe it,” Bucky added, turning his head to the side to grin at Steve. “So patriotic.”

 

Steve grinned at him before turning back to Nat. “I know that Bucky is twenty-six and that his birthday is March tenth.”

 

“Bucky says you’re a comic book writer and artist?” she continued. Bucky snorted.

 

“I, uh, yeah,” Steve said, blushing. He put his other hand on Bucky’s left bicep and began gently rubbing his thumb back and forth under the short sleeve of Bucky’s t-shirt, lightly caressing his tattoo. When Bucky sighed contentedly, Clint and Nat exchanged another surprised look; Bucky normally didn’t like anyone touching his left arm. “I’m actually the founder of SHIELD Publications. I created the _Captain America_ comics.”

 

“And all the others,” Bucky piped up.

 

“Wait,” Clint said, holding his hand up. “You created the _Captain America_ series?”

 

“Yes,” Steve admitted, blushing harder.

 

“And your birthday is the Fourth of July,” Clint continued.

 

“Yes,” Steve repeated, smiling at the sound of Bucky’s snickering. “I’m glad you find that so amusing,” he said softly, leaning over to kiss the side of Bucky’s head.

 

“How can I not?” Bucky asked, picking his head up and laughing openly now. “It’s dorky and adorable. It’s adorkable.”

 

“When did you meet?” Nat asked, getting back to the topic at hand.

 

“The first time we saw each other or the first time we spoke?” Bucky asked in response.

 

“The first time you saw each other,” Nat said, her head tilted to the side.

 

“Um, a little over a month ago?” Bucky said, and Steve nodded in agreement.

 

“I actually saw you before you saw me,” Steve said, giving Bucky’s arm a little squeeze.

 

“What, before the day I dropped Wanda off at the café?” Bucky asked, curiously.

 

“Yup,” Steve said, smiling. “It was the first time Sam and I went to the bookstore and you were on an errand for Nick, I think. We were in the café, you came in with a box under your arm and Clint waved at you, and that’s when I saw you for the first time.” He grinned even wider. “You waved back at Clint and you smiled, and…wow,” he sighed, shaking his head at the memory, “I was a goner right then and there. You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. Couldn’t stop thinking about you after that.”

 

“This is either really romantic or really creepy,” Nat smirked.

 

“Quiet, you,” Bucky scolded. “This is romantic as fuck and you know it.”

 

Clint snorted so hard that he almost spilled his own coffee. Nat nudged him with her elbow, trying not to smile, before asking Steve, “So who is Sam?”

 

“Sam Wilson, my best and oldest friend, and also my occasional lawyer and co-worker,” Steve explained. “He handles all the legal matters for my company. I’d be lost without him.”

 

“He cries over your apple tarts,” Clint said to Nat. “I’m pretty sure he wants to start a new religion based on them.”

 

“He sounds like a very intelligent man,” Nat said, actually giving Steve a genuine smile.

 

“He’s a great guy,” Steve said. “He handles all of my corporate dirty work, dealing with people that I don’t want to.”

 

“I can’t imagine you having corporate dirty work,” Bucky chided, putting his hand over Steve’s.

 

“Believe it or not, there are some really awful people in the publishing business,” Steve said, huffing a laugh as he shook his head. “This one guy, Alexander Pierce, is the absolute worst—won’t leave me alone.”

 

Suddenly everyone in the room stiffened. “What?” Steve asked, looking around.

 

“Pierce? From House of Hydra Publishing?” Bucky asked, his eyes wide and his face pale.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding, his brow furrowed in concern.

 

“That’s who Brock works for,” Bucky said quietly. He closed his eyes and shuddered.

 

“Are you serious?” Steve asked. He turned to fully face Bucky and wrapped his right arm around his shoulders, whispering, “C’mere, sweetheart,” and pulled him into his lap. Bucky leaned into him, breathing deeply, taking in Steve’s comforting scent. “I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised—a scumbag working for a scumbag.”

 

“Why is Pierce bothering you?” Nat asked, all business now.

 

“He’s been trying for over a year to get me to sell the rights to all the characters I’ve created,” Steve said, tucking Bucky’s head against his shoulder and stroking his hair in almost an unconscious gesture. “When that didn’t work, he tried threatening me with ridiculous lawsuits.” Steve shook his head. “He’s got nothing, and I’ll never do business with him.”

 

“I hate that we have to carry his titles,” Bucky said. “That’s why Brock comes to the bookstore. Rather than just ship it, Pierce has Brock drive their deliveries to the store personally. Although,” Bucky said, perking up a bit, “Nick is trying to get Pierce to send someone else. He doesn’t want Brock around, either.”

 

“Nick’s a good guy,” Clint said, nodding. “He takes care of his people.”

 

Steve nodded, still keeping Bucky close. He pulled back a bit to look at him, saying, “I’ve never seen H.O.H. Publishing titles in the comics section, though.”

 

“I don’t include them,” Bucky said, almost sneering. “They’re garbage—I leave them up at the newsstand. Only the good stuff gets to go in my section.”

 

“I see,” Steve said, smiling. He kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “I’m flattered that my work made the cut.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Bucky said, sitting back and looking at Steve’s face in shock. “Your work is, and always has been, the standard by which all others are judged.”

 

“Well, then, I’d better not slack off,” he chuckled, looking at Bucky fondly. “I don’t ever want to disappoint you.”

 

“I don’t think you could,” Bucky replied, leaning forward to kiss him softly.

 

“I’m making breakfast,” Nat announced, sliding off her chair and quickly walking around the island. “Pancakes? Waffles? Steve, do you have a preference?”

 

“Um, no, no preferences,” Steve said, looking up in time to see Clint giving him and Bucky a huge grin and two big thumbs up. Smiling quizzically, he asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”

 

“We’ll set the table, okay, Nat?” Bucky said, grinning broadly, standing and pulling Steve to his feet.

 

“Okay,” Nat said, her head stuck in the refrigerator.

 

Bucky dragged Steve out into the hallway and pushed him up against the wall. “You,” he said, pulling Steve’s head down for a fast and hard kiss, “are absolutely perfect.”

 

“I’m very happy you think so, sweetheart,” Steve smiled, kissing him again, “and I assure you the feeling is completely mutual.”

 

Bucky looked up at him, eyes sparkling, before hugging Steve tight. “You’re amazing.” One more kiss, and Bucky said, “Okay, let’s set the table.”

 

Soon they were all sitting at the table, passing around the massive amounts of blueberry waffles, eggs, and bacon that Nat had prepared in record time. As Steve served Bucky extra eggs (“You’re still growing, eat up.”) and poured him a glass of juice, Bucky rolled his eyes and grinned.

 

Nat immediately began asking Steve what his favorite foods were and if he had any allergies. Clint just smiled and kept eating.

 

***

 

After breakfast, Bucky and Steve cleaned up and did the dishes, and then Bucky took a shower. After he finished, Bucky came back into his room, with a towel around his waist, his chest and shoulders bare. Steve had been checking messages on his phone when Bucky returned, and he looked up with a smile.

 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Steve said softly from his seat on the edge of Bucky’s bed.

 

“Hi,” Bucky replied, and his nervousness was a palpable thing, easily visible from across the room. He shut the door behind him and shifted from one foot to the other, eyes downcast, looking like he wanted to hide his left side from view.

 

“Would you like to come over to my place today and watch some football?” Steve asked, watching Bucky, seeing how uncomfortable he was. “Sam and I usually go back and forth every other weekend between my place and his, so he’ll be over after lunch.”

 

“You wouldn’t mind? If I was there, I mean?” Bucky asked from his spot by the door.

 

“Of course not,” Steve said, smiling at him. “I would love for you to be there. And Sam has mentioned that he’d like to get to know you better, too.” Bucky nodded, absently. “Sweetheart?” Steve said gently, setting his phone down, and Bucky met his eyes apprehensively. “I would really like to see your tattoo. Would it be okay if I looked at it?”

 

Bucky took a deep breath, as if he was steeling himself against something unpleasant, and nodded. “Okay,” he exhaled.

 

“Come here, baby doll,” Steve said, extending his hand, and Bucky approached him shyly. Taking Bucky’s hand, Steve turned him and sat him down sideways on his lap, and he began caressing Bucky’s back with his large, warm right hand. “Oh, Bucky,” Steve sighed, looking at the artwork that extended from the top of his left shoulder to his elbow, “this is _beautiful._ ”

 

Wanda had created a gorgeous design, and the richness and intensity of the color inked into Bucky’s skin gave the tattoo depth and dimension. What appeared to be a metal cuff, comprised of separate plates, wrapped over the top of Bucky’s shoulder, with additional interlocking plates extending down his bicep. On the rounded outer part of Bucky’s shoulder, there was a red star. Up close, Steve could see the uneven texture of Bucky’s skin underneath the ink, including one very large scar that ran the length of the inside of his bicep, and another that extended from the top of his shoulder to the bottom of his left shoulder blade.

 

“May I touch you?” Steve asked softly, and Bucky nodded jerkily, avoiding his eyes. “How long did it take Wanda to do this?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss the top of Bucky’s shoulder.

 

Bucky shivered at the feel of Steve’s whiskers against his skin and he answered shakily, “We, uh, did it over about ten sessions,” he said quietly, finally peeking at Steve’s face and seeing nothing but admiration and appreciation. “The, um, scar tissue needs more ink, so we could only do a little at a time,” he explained.

 

“What gave you the idea for the metal plates?” Steve asked. He traced his finger over the back of Bucky’s shoulder, where the design appeared to vanish under the scar.

 

“My humerus, acromion, and scapula were shattered in the accident,” Bucky said, his voice sounding dreamy and his eyes sliding shut as Steve lightly ran his fingers up and down his arm, kissing here and there. “There are plates and pins holding everything together. I told Wanda about it and she came up with this.”

 

“It’s stunning,” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear, “just like the rest of you. Thank you for sharing this with me.” He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s mostly naked body and held him tight, kissing his neck. Bucky sighed and leaned heavily into Steve’s body, allowing him to take his weight. “I’m so lucky you’re mine.”

 

“Am I yours?” Bucky asked softly, tucking his face into Steve’s shoulder.

 

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Steve replied, smiling into Bucky’s damp hair.

 

***

 

After Bucky was dressed, they went over to Steve’s place so that he could also shower and change. Steve gave Bucky a quick tour and then told him to make himself at home, so he gleefully snooped around while Steve was cleaning up. He wandered through the living room and the kitchen, which wasn’t huge but had good counter space in an ‘L’ shape that opened into the living area, along with a big center island that could easily seat four adults, and a separate table that could currently fit four but looked like it could expand. The dark cabinets and earthy tones throughout gave the home a warm, cozy feel that Bucky thought suited Steve perfectly. The colors and the textures and the overall atmosphere of the place made Bucky want to curl up in Steve’s arms and snuggle for hours.

 

He meandered down the hallway, checking out the office-slash-guest-room and the guest bath, before wandering into the master bedroom. Steve was still showering, so Bucky looked around, noting the dark espresso wood furniture that looked to be the same color as his kitchen and bathroom cabinets. There was a dresser, nightstands, ginormous slat-style, California-King-sized bed, and a large, full-length freestanding mirror in the corner; all of it was incredibly warm and cozy.

 

Speaking of cozy, Bucky sprawled briefly across Steve’s aforementioned ginormous bed, moaning at how soft and comfortable it was, and how much it smelled like Steve—warm and woodsy with that underlying minty scent clinging to his pillowcases—then he quickly straightened the covers out, blushing at his own silliness. He moved on to the other rooms at that point, oohing and aahing at the photos and artwork on the walls, much of it from Steve’s favorite artists—and quite a few of Steve’s own works.

 

“God, this is beautiful,” Bucky whispered to himself, standing in the living room and looking at what was obviously a pencil-drawn portrait Steve had done of his mother. The lines were drawn so lovingly, conveying so much warmth and strength, that Bucky actually began to tear up. “Wow,” he sniffled, blinking hard and exhaling shakily.

 

“That’s how I always think of her,” Steve said quietly, and Bucky started, surprised by his voice. He had been so absorbed in the picture, looking at the woman who bore an amazing resemblance to the man who had drawn her, that he hadn’t heard Steve walk into the room. Steve looked at Bucky, his bottom lip jutting out a bit at Bucky’s watery eyes, and immediately closed the distance between them, folding Bucky into his arms. “My sweet, sensitive boy,” he murmured into Bucky’s hair.

 

“I warned you,” Bucky said, his voice sounding deep and raspy as he laughed a little at himself. “Doesn’t take much to make me weepy.”

 

“I think it’s adorable. Now,” he continued, drying Bucky’s eyes and kissing his forehead, “are you ready to watch big men in tight pants fight over a football?”

 

“Hell, yes,” Bucky laughed.

 

For the next few hours, they cheered and yelled at the TV screen. As promised, Sam came over for the game, and Steve was thrilled that Sam and Bucky got along so well—even if they were ganging up on him.

 

“You’ve been his friend for twenty years, Sam. How have you not gotten him to root for a local team in all that time?” Bucky asked, taking a bottle of beer from Steve.

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re figured out how stubborn your man is,” Sam said, also accepting a bottle from Steve. “Once he’s made up his mind about something, there’s no point in arguing with him.”

 

“I prefer to think of it as having an unwavering sense of loyalty,” Steve said, laughing as he took a seat on the couch next to Bucky. He put his arm on the back of the sofa behind Bucky, tucking him into his side. Bucky casually put his hand on Steve’s knee, curling his fingers every so often, lightly scratching at the denim material.

 

Sam asked Bucky general questions about himself, and, as Steve had expected, while they chatted about how he had grown up in Indiana and ended up in New York, Bucky didn’t have any problem talking about how his father had essentially disowned him when he came out. “I think I knew subconsciously that he would react that way,” Bucky said, helping himself to a slice of pepperoni pizza, “so I waited until I had my acceptance letter from NYU and all of my plans settled before I said anything.”

 

“But you still talk to your mom and your sister?” Sam asked between bites.

 

“My sister far more than my mom, but yeah,” Bucky said, before taking a big bite. “Mmm, this is really good,” he mumbled.

 

“How old is your sister?” Steve asked, wiping his hands on a napkin.

 

“Becca’s twenty, in her third year at Indiana State, a computer science major,” he said. “It was hard for her when I was gone. She was only twelve when I left, and they weren’t exactly honest with her about why I never came back—she was pretty angry when I told her the truth. She told me she wanted to come to NYU as well, but our father wouldn’t allow it.” He chuckled a little bitterly. “I wonder why.” He took a sip of his drink. “We mostly talk while she’s at school, not when she’s at home. Those conversations tend to be very short.”

 

“Anytime she wants to visit, she’s more than welcome to stay here,” Steve said. “I’ve got a guest room she can use.”

 

“Aww, Stevie, you’re so sweet,” Bucky smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “That’s really nice of you.”

 

“Anything for you, baby,” he whispered in Bucky’s ear, making him blush.

 

They watched the rest of the game, Sam occasionally telling a funny story about Steve when they were kids and thoroughly enjoying every moment of Steve’s embarrassment. He sat, red-cheeked and laughing, as Sam told Bucky about his refusal to back down from any sort of perceived injustice, even when there was a good chance he’d end up with bruises because of it. “Even after he grew into his attitude, that never changed. He was a little spitfire before, he’s a big spitfire now,” Sam said, and even through the teasing, Bucky could see how much Steve meant to him.

 

After Steve’s mother had passed away, Sam had moved in with him while they both attended college. The apartment that Steve had grown up in was rent controlled, so with the both of them working part-time jobs while they took classes, they were easily able to afford the rent. Steve’s mother had bought a sizeable life insurance policy for herself after her husband had died—hoping for the best, but always preparing for the worst, Steve said—so Steve had been able to pay for his entire education and still have plenty left over. He had also inherited the bulk of his late father’s life insurance and military death benefits, as his mother had barely touched it, only using what was necessary when Steve was small and needed medical care. With help from Sam, Tony, and Peggy, whom they had met at college, Steve used a big piece of his inheritance to start SHIELD Publications and put out his first issue of _Captain America_.

 

Within two years, the quarterly issues were paying for themselves, and by the end of the fourth year, they were turning a sizeable profit. He was able to lease office space and high-end equipment—though he knew Tony had given him a break on the terms of the lease for the first couple of years, much the same way Sam had discounted his hourly rate for legal work, and Peggy her help with payroll and accounting—and hire full-time help, like Peter, his assistant.

 

Hearing about how SHIELD got off the ground gave Bucky an even greater appreciation for Steve’s work, but it made him a little nervous, too. Steve’s friends were obviously incredibly important to him and their opinions held a lot of weight with him. He was fairly certain that Sam liked him well enough, but would he think he was good enough to date Steve?

 

Once the football game was over, the pizza was eaten, and the empty bottles and plates were getting cleaned up, Sam came over to Bucky with a big smile and shook his hand, saying, “Steve looks really happy, Buck. It’s a good look on him.”

 

“He wasn’t happy before?” Bucky asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

 

“Steve’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever known,” Sam said fondly, “and, unfortunately, his last relationship, well…” he trailed off, unsure if he should elaborate.

 

Bucky nodded. “He told me about Sharon, what she did, how she used him.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone could treat him like that. We’ve only been dating a little over a month, and he’s easily the kindest, most genuine person I’ve ever met. Just seeing him smile makes me all…“ Bucky sighed, a goofy grin on his face. “He’s wonderful.”

 

Sam chuckled. “Good to see you’re as whupped as he is,” he said, clapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. As Steve approached the two of them, he said, “I’ll see you Wednesday, okay, Steve? Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he said, wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind and resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky giggled and turned his head to kiss Steve’s cheek.

 

“Yeah, okay, I don’t need to know,” Sam smiled, walking out the door. “See you two lovebirds later.”

 

Once Sam was gone, Steve turned Bucky in his arms and pulled him close. “You have to work tomorrow?” he asked, kissing Bucky softly.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Opening tomorrow and Tuesday, closing Wednesday, off Thursday. Not sure about Friday and Saturday yet.”

 

“Do you have to go home tonight?” Steve asked, nibbling down his jawline. Bucky’s eyes slid shut and he tilted his head to the side.

 

“I do,” Bucky sighed regretfully. “I go in with Clint at eight.”

 

“Okay, baby boy,” Steve said, nipping at Bucky’s earlobe, making him moan. “I’ll make sure you get home.”

 

“In a few hours? Maybe after we go to your room for a while?” Bucky asked hopefully as he slid his fingers into Steve’s hair and held him tight. “Please, Daddy? Your bed looks so comfy.”

 

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

 

***

 

Unfortunately, with the end of their third fiscal quarter happening that week, Steve was busy until late into the evening nearly every night helping Peggy get their financial documents in order. They were so busy that he and Sam didn’t even have time to make their now-usual Wednesday trip to the bookstore, so he and Bucky were limited to texts and phone calls for a third straight day. “I miss you,” Bucky said shyly, trying not to sound too sad or needy. The last thing he wanted was to make Steve feel guilty over needing to work.

 

“I miss you, too, baby,” he replied, and Bucky smiled at the sincerity he could hear in Steve’s voice. “Do you know what you’re working on Friday and Saturday yet?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “I’m closing Friday night and opening Saturday, which we normally try not to do, because that only gives me nine hours off in between, but it couldn’t be helped.”

 

“Do you think you’ll be too tired to come over Saturday night?” Steve asked. “I’d love to cook dinner for you.”

 

“I’m never too tired to see you,” Bucky said, already perking up at the idea.

 

“I could pick you up from the bookstore, unless you need to go home for something,” he offered, and Bucky could practically hear Steve making plans in his head.

 

He smiled, blushing, as he said, “I could bring an overnight bag to work with me?”

 

“Yes, do that, please,” Steve replied eagerly, and Bucky’s heart fluttered dangerously.

 

“I can’t wait to see you,” he whispered, and after Steve responded similarly, they both went back to work.

 

***

 

Bucky really couldn’t wait to see Steve. He woke up Thursday morning and, after going to the gym, showering, having a nice chat with his sister, who was getting settled into her third year at college—and who couldn’t wait to hear more about her brother’s dreamy new boyfriend when she had more time—putting on his favorite black skinny jeans and dark blue button-down shirt, and getting his hair just right, he asked Nat, who was packing up boxes for deliveries, “Could I possibly get a mixed box from you? I’ll pay for it and everything.”

 

Nat didn’t even try to hide her smile. “Are you going to visit Steve at work?”

 

Bucky blushed to the tips of his ears. “That’s the plan,” he sighed. “I miss him so much.” Then he cringed. “Ugh. Does this make me pathetic?”

 

“No, sweetie,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “If he’s really as nice as he seems, then I would say you’re entirely justified.”

 

“He is, he really is,” Bucky said, shaking his head in amazement. “When I’m with him, I just feel so…happy. It’s like he only sees the good stuff in me, not the messed-up, broken—“

 

“Don’t do that,” Nat said firmly, shaking her head. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and there never was. We all have scars, Bucky. Nobody’s perfect.”

 

“Steve is, holy shit,” Bucky blurted, and then he blushed at Nat’s raised eyebrow. “I mean, he’s just really, just…gorgeous.”

 

“He is very handsome, but is that what you like most about him?” she asked, tilting her head thoughtfully.

 

“No,” Bucky admitted, smiling softly. “He’s got the biggest heart, Nat. And when he holds me, I feel so safe, like nothing could ever hurt me again.”

 

“Then I only have one more question for you,” Nat said, smiling.

 

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

 

“What are his favorite pastries? Because he’s getting a great big box of goodies today.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know Nat is a ferocious Mama Bear.
> 
> Next chapter: A visit to the office gets a little steamy. ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone for all the kind words and kudos! Y'all are making my heart feel all warm and squishy. <3


	8. Wish I Could Stop, Switch Off the Clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets to meet some of the co-workers, and a little steamy goodness during an office visit!

 

Bucky opened the door to the offices of SHIELD Publications and poked his head inside. Off-white walls and dark grey carpet ran throughout, broken up by cubicle walls made up of fabric panels in gradient shades of blue—dark on the bottom and light on the top—that divided the large, open space. On the far wall, there was a SHIELD logo—an actual large, flat, round, metal shield—and all around the other walls, there was original artwork along with posters of Captain America, as well as some of Steve’s other creations—Iron Man, Falcon, Black Widow, and Hawkeye, to name a few—in big, black frames. Past a reception desk, he could see two dozen or so of the blue cubicles lined up in rows stretching to the back of the large room, two larger cubicles and a small conference room at the end. The smell of slightly burnt coffee and the hum of conversation and office equipment filled the air.

 

“Hi there,” a chipper voice to his right said, startling him. “Welcome to SHIELD, what can I do for you?”

 

Bucky turned to see a woman with big blue eyes, long, wavy, dark hair, and a friendly smile walking toward him, holding an armful of files.

 

“Hi,” Bucky said, holding the big red box in his arms, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “I’m here to see Steve?” he said, cringing when it came out sounding so uncertain.

 

The woman narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Are you sure about that?”

 

Bucky chuckled at himself, blushing. “Yes, I’m sorry. Is Steve Rogers here?”

 

“Do you have an appointment with Mister Rogers?” she asked, setting the files down on the desk.

 

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Um, no, sorry. I wanted to surprise him. He’s been really busy this week with the end of the quarter, and—“

 

“Wait, wait,” the woman said suddenly, her eyes growing round and holding her hands up. “Are you Bucky?”

 

“Yes,” he replied, surprised. “How did you—“

 

“Oh, my god, you really are _so_ adorable,” she squeaked, grinning widely. “I’m Darcy, receptionist and greeter here at SHIELD. Hang on, let me call Peter and find out where Steve is. He’ll be so happy to see you. He’s been pouty all week.” She quickly picked up a phone handset and pressed a few numbers.

 

Bucky couldn’t help but smile when he realized that Steve had been talking about him at work, and that he was telling his co-workers that Bucky was _adorable_. He also knew he was blushing profusely and was completely unable to stop it.

 

“Peter,” she said, “it’s Darcy. Where’s Steve-O?” Peter said something that Bucky couldn’t hear, and Darcy replied, “Yes, it’s important, Bucky is here.”

 

“ _Really?_ ” Bucky could hear his voice over the phone and also behind him, coming from the far end of the room, and when Bucky turned around, saw a young man’s head pop up over the top of a cubicle wall. “I’ll be right there!” he shouted into the phone, so again Bucky heard it in stereo, and almost before Darcy hung up her handset, Peter was bounding up to the front desk, grinning widely.

 

“Hi! I’m Peter!” the young man said when he arrived. “I’m Steve’s assistant. It’s so great to meet you,” he said, looking incredibly excited.

 

“Um, hi,” Bucky said, smiling quizzically. “It’s nice to meet you both, too.” He held up the red box. “I know Steve’s been busy, so I thought I’d bring snacks.”

 

“Oh, my god, are those the pastries from the bookstore?” Peter asked, his eyes wide as he stared at the size of the box.

 

“Yup, Red Room Pastries, my roommate’s business,” he said happily.

 

Peter’s eyes popped. “Your _roommate_ makes these?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky grinned. “She’s amazing.”

 

“Steve is in the conference room with Peg and Tony, so if you want to surprise him, I can take these,” Peter said, sliding his hands under the box, “over to the break area, and—“

 

“You’d better not try to hide those, buster,” Darcy said, pointing at him.

 

“I would never,” Peter said, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face as he took the box from Bucky. “Come on,” he laughed, “I’ll take you to the conference room. The break area is just around the corner from there.”

 

They walked through the main office toward the room in the back. Once they were outside the slightly open door, Bucky could hear voices discussing expense reports. He turned to Peter and asked, “Are you sure it’s okay to interrupt?”

 

“For you? Absolutely,” Peter said. “Here, wait up.” He pushed open the door to the conference room and stuck his head in, showing them the large red box. “Hey guys, a delivery of pastries just showed up. They’ll be back by the coffee machine.”

 

“What?” Steve asked, his voice very clearly confused. “What the—how did—who?”

 

Peter ducked back out, grinning at Bucky. “You’re up.”

 

Feeling incredibly nervous and excited, Bucky walked in to the conference room and found three pairs of eyes looking at him, two with pleasant surprise, and one pair of big, bright, baby blues that looked at Bucky like Christmas had arrived early and had brought him everything he had ever wished for—including a pony.

 

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, his whole face lighting up.

 

Bucky was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “Hey, Stevie,” he said. Looking briefly at the other two people in the room, he gave a shy little wave. “Hello.”

 

Steve was on his feet and pulling Bucky into his arms before the other two could even respond. “Oh, Bucky, I’ve missed you,” Steve sighed, holding him close. He kissed Bucky’s cheek and nuzzled the side of his head, inhaling his warm scent. “This is the best surprise ever.”

 

“I know you’ve been working really hard this week, so I brought snacks for you,” Bucky said, a little bashfully.

 

“That is so sweet of you,” Steve said, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Thank you, baby.”

 

“Getting to see you for a few minutes is just a bonus,” Bucky added, reveling in the warmth of Steve’s arms.

 

A woman cleared her throat behind them. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, and Bucky blushed to see that the two people seated at the table with big smiles on their faces were watching him and Steve acting like they’d been separated for months rather than just four days.

 

“Sorry,” Steve said, turning to face the others but keeping his right arm around Bucky, holding him close. “Bucky, this is Peggy and Tony, two of my best friends and business partners. Peg, Tony, this is Bucky, my unbelievably sweet and wonderful boyfriend.”

 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Bucky,” Peggy said, smiling brightly. “We’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

 

“Yes, we have,” Tony said, grinning wickedly. “And I’ve gotta say, the picture of you on Steve’s phone—the one that he keeps staring at and mooning over—doesn’t do you justice.”

 

“Tony,” Steve growled warningly, though Bucky could hear that he wasn’t serious.

 

“What? You weren’t kidding, he is absolutely gorgeous,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows as Bucky’s cheeks reddened. “And he’s a blusher. Oh, my god.”

 

Bucky turned and buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, giggling, as Steve said, “That’s enough, Tony. Go get your own boyfriend.”

 

“I, for one, am going to see if there are any scones in that red box,” Peggy said, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirt. She patted Tony’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Anthony, we’re taking a break for a few minutes.”

 

Bucky picked his head up. “There’s an insulated box inside with clotted cream and some different jams for the scones.”

 

Peggy paused for a second and put her right hand on her chest. “Be still my heart.” As she walked out, pulling Tony along behind her, she said, “It was very nice to meet you, Bucky. I do hope we’ll see you again, soon.”

 

“It was nice to meet you, too,” Bucky said as they walked out the door, Tony winking at him on the way out.

 

Once they were gone, Bucky turned back to look at Steve, but before he could say anything, his breath caught in his throat at the heat he saw there. Staring into Bucky’s eyes, Steve slowly pushed the door closed and locked it with a decisive _click_.

 

Gripping Bucky’s hips and turning him around, Steve walked him backwards until he bumped into the wall behind the door. He crowded in close, until their chests were touching and Bucky had to look up to see his face, before whispering roughly, “Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby boy,” and claiming his mouth in a bruising, hot kiss that had Bucky whimpering immediately.

 

He wound his arms around Steve’s neck and held on as his knees started to wobble beneath him. “Missed you, too, so much, Daddy,” Bucky replied, gasping, when they broke apart to breathe.

 

Steve had Bucky pushed up against the wall and when he pressed their hips together, Bucky moaned into Steve’s mouth. “Been such a long week without you. Can you feel how much I’ve missed you, sweetheart?” he asked, their lips brushing together as he spoke.

 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Bucky exhaled, his head falling back and bumping the wall, as Steve languidly ground their shafts together. Steve bit and sucked his way down Bucky’s throat, stopping at the collar of his shirt.

 

“You look so pretty, baby doll,” Steve sighed, working his way back up the other side of Bucky’s neck, nipping at his earlobe. “I love how you look when I’m making you feel good.”

 

A light bulb switched on in Bucky’s brain. “I wanna make you feel good, too,” Bucky said softly, letting his right hand trail down one of Steve’s big arms, then turning his hand to palm the bulge in Steve’s pants. Steve groaned, deep in his throat, as Bucky stroked him slowly. “Please let me, Daddy.”

 

“What are you thinking, baby boy?” Steve asked him, his pupils completely dilated as he watched Bucky intently.

 

Bucky smiled, and it was the most dangerous and sexy smile that Steve had ever seen. He swallowed hard as Bucky sank to his knees, keeping his eyes on Steve’s the whole time. “Oh, fuck,” Steve whispered, putting his hand against the wall to keep himself upright.

 

“You’ve been working so hard this week, Daddy,” Bucky said softly, leaning forward to rub his cheek against Steve’s clothed shaft, and Steve had to shut his eyes and take a deep breath to try and get his pounding heart under control.

 

“I shouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “This is my office, and—“

 

“Please, Daddy? Please let me suck your cock,” Bucky said, making his voice high and breathy, undoing Steve’s belt as he spoke, and Steve was lost.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he gritted out, and Bucky grinned, quickly undoing the button and zip and tugging Steve’s pants and briefs down to mid-thigh, freeing his big, straining cock. “There you go, baby,” he ground out, “Daddy’s so hard for you.”

 

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky moaned, gripping the thick base firmly with his right hand. He wasted no time, licking Steve’s shaft from root to tip, then sucking the swollen head into his mouth. He set a fast rhythm, bobbing and sucking as much as he could, stroking the rest with his fist. He reached for Steve’s right hand, setting it on the back of his head, and Steve groaned from deep in his chest, low and rumbling.

 

Steve was now leaning, legs shoulder-width apart, his left forearm braced against the wall, the other hand on the back of Bucky’s head, lightly thrusting into his hot, wet mouth. “Fuck, baby, you look so good,” he rambled. “So goddamn pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock. Can’t believe you’re mine, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

 

Bucky moaned around Steve’s shaft and Steve nearly choked, curling his fingers in Bucky’s hair. Bucky swirled his tongue around the head of Steve’s cock, delighting in the salty spurts and the absolutely filthy sounds coming out of the big blond. After just a few minutes, Bucky could feel his shaft thickening further, knew Steve was getting close, even before the man whispered roughly, “I’m getting close, sweetheart, you need to stop.”

 

Bucky hummed a negative response, curling his left hand around Steve’s hip to hold him in place, sucking harder and stroking faster. Steve gripped Bucky’s hair tight and tugged lightly, intending to pull Bucky off his cock; instead, Bucky groaned, his eyes rolling back, and Steve barely had time to gasp out a warning before he was coming, shooting into Bucky’s hot, wet mouth. His hips jerked, still thrusting between Bucky’s lips, and his fingers were fisted in Bucky’s hair, holding him tight, holy _fuck_ —

 

Bucky swallowed him down, reveling in the stretch of his lips and the weight of Steve’s shaft on his tongue, the salty-bitter taste in his throat, the clean, musky scent in his nose, the tingle in his scalp shooting sparks all along his spine, the sounds of Steve’s pleasure in his ears, and it was so good, oh my _god_ —

 

Steve grunted and gasped, trying to stay quiet, but not entirely able to silence himself; Bucky sucked and slurped, moaning around Steve’s shaft like he never wanted to do anything else. Finally, when it became too much, Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek. “Baby, baby, stop,” he panted.

 

Bucky whined in displeasure, but he allowed Steve’s shaft to slowly slip free of his mouth, kissing the tip. Bucky licked his red, swollen lips, grinning wickedly, loving the glassy, glazed look in Steve’s eyes as he stared at his baby boy. “Thank you, Daddy,” Bucky whispered, tonguing just under the head of his cock.

 

“Fuck,” Steve moaned, hooking his left hand under Bucky’s right arm and hauling him to his feet. He kissed him hard, licking into his mouth, tasting himself on Bucky’s tongue. “You’re such a good boy, sweetheart, so good for me,” he murmured, pushing his hand back into Bucky’s hair and holding him close.

 

Bucky was pulling Steve’s boxer briefs back up and carefully tucking his shaft back inside by the time Steve was aware enough to help him. He pulled his own pants up, tucked his shirt back in, zipped and buttoned and re-buckled his belt, as Bucky finger-combed his hair. Once he was re-dressed, he fell back into a chair, tugging Bucky down to sit on his lap. Bucky straddled his thighs, loosely wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, sighing happily when Steve pulled him close and held him tight.

 

They sat for a minute or so, as Steve caught his breath, Bucky nuzzling his nose into Steve’s hair and inhaling slowly. “Mmm,” he hummed happily, “minty.”

 

“You really like that peppermint shampoo, don’t you?” Steve asked, smiling lazily.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky nodded, now kissing his way down Steve’s cheekbone to his lush, swollen lips. “Among other things.”

 

“You are so amazing,” Steve said, kissing Bucky deeply. He slid his left hand under Bucky’s shirt, trailing his fingers across the warm skin of his back, feeling the goose bumps rising in his wake. Bucky shivered, smiling into the kiss, as Steve continued to make little circles on his flesh.

 

“Did you like that, Daddy?” Bucky asked quietly as Steve started kissing and nibbling at his jawline. He tilted his head back, his eyes closed, loving the scratchiness of Steve’s beard.

 

“So much, baby boy, you made your Daddy feel so good,” he replied, and Bucky squirmed happily in his lap. “Daddy wants to make you feel good, too, sweetheart,” he said, dropping his hand down to squeeze and rub Bucky’s thigh, inching higher toward the rather sizeable bulge in his pants, when suddenly Bucky stayed his hand.

 

“As great as that sounds,” Bucky smiled, “I need to get Clint’s car back to him.”

 

Steve sat back. “What?” he asked, confused, as if Bucky was speaking a different language.

 

“Clint could only spare his car for an hour,” Bucky shrugged. “I need to get back to Brooklyn.”

 

Steve pouted. Seriously pouted and gave Bucky the sad eyes. “Oh, no,” Bucky said, shaking his head vigorously, “that’s not even remotely fair.”

 

“But you’ve only just got here,” Steve said, laying it on super thick. “I’ve missed you _so much_. And if you leave I have to start working again.”

 

“Get all your work done and come get me from the bookstore on Saturday,” Bucky said, leaning forward to kiss him softly.

 

“And what are you going to do about this?” Steve asked, trailing a finger over Bucky’s still-hard shaft, making Bucky twitch.

 

“Go home and sweet talk my right hand?” he said, chuckling.

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Steve said, slowly shaking his head and letting his voice drop into the deep, dark, rumbly territory that made Bucky shudder. “You’re not going to touch yourself, baby boy. You’re going to save this pretty cock for me.”

 

“Seriously?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

 

“I’m _very_ serious, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, nibbling under his ear. He ran his fingertips teasingly up and down Bucky’s dick. “I want to be the only thing you can think about for the next two days, and every time you get hard, I want you to think about how good it’s going to feel when you finally come for me.”

 

“Oh, sweet fucking hell,” Bucky moaned, his head tipping back.

 

“Can you do that, baby? Think of me every time you get hard?” Steve asked, licking along the outer shell of his ear.

 

“I already do,” Bucky whined, completely forgetting that he had somewhere to be, as he rocked his hips forward into Steve’s hand.

 

“Oh, what a perfect little boy you are,” Steve purred. “So good for your Daddy.”

 

“ _Stevie,_ ” Bucky whined even more pathetically, “if I don’t come for two days I’m gonna die!”

 

Steve started laughing then, and when he pulled Bucky down into a kiss, Bucky could feel him smiling against his lips. “You won’t die,” Steve chuckled.

 

“My balls will explode,” Bucky frowned. When Steve continued to smile at his antics, he grumbled, “I’m gonna be really horny and uncomfortable.”

 

“Just think about how good it’s going to feel when I take you apart Saturday night,” Steve said, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him slowly.

 

“Not helping,” Bucky moaned, dropping his head on to Steve’s shoulder.

 

Steve chuckled, cuddling Bucky to his chest. “Okay, baby boy,” he said, swatting Bucky on his bottom, “you need to get Clint’s car back to Brooklyn, and I need to get this work done.”

 

Bucky pushed himself up to his feet and looked down at the front of his pants. “Um,” he said, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Steve. “Do you have a jacket or a really long shirt, or maybe a way to distract your coworkers,” he said, trying not to laugh, “because I can’t go out there like this. I’ll poke someone’s eye out.”

 

***

 

When Bucky woke up Friday morning with a hard-on, he chuckled at his predicament. It had taken several minutes the previous afternoon of not looking at Steve or thinking about his soft lips or big hands or his stupidly fabulous dick to get his own erection to go down so that he could leave the conference room. There may have been a few knowing looks directed his way when Steve’s happy, smiling, and suddenly _very_ relaxed face walked him out to his car (or Clint’s, rather), but no one said a word other than thanks for the pastries and hopes that he would visit again soon.

 

So the next morning, he ignored the problem and kept himself busy, going to the gym, getting his laundry done, and doing his errands before going to work in the afternoon. When he clocked out for his break on Friday evening, Steve surprised him by delivering dinner. Bucky brought him back into the office, where Steve proceeded to kiss him absolutely breathless—and then Bucky had to calm down _again_ before going back to work. It was getting…a little uncomfortable in his jeans.

 

When Bucky woke up Saturday morning, thrusting lightly against his own bed sheets, it was more than a little uncomfortable; it was starting to get pretty damn frustrating. He sent Steve a picture of his ‘problem,’ hoping to garner some sympathy—or a compliment—and instead had received a phone call from the man, during which he wound Bucky up even more, praising his beautiful boy for being so good. The cold shower he had to take before heading back in to the bookstore did not improve his mood. He shaved and did some personal grooming, trying not to get excited again by handling himself too much, but his heart was racing as he threw a change of clothes and some toiletries into his backpack.

 

By Saturday afternoon, Bucky was ready to burst. His skin felt too tight, his clothes were itchy, and the minutes were crawling by. At one point, he needed to step into the office just to take a deep breath, where Nick found him, leaning with his arms braced over the desk.

 

“What’s going on with you today, Buck?” he asked, poking Bucky’s leg with his cane. “You look like you’re fit to tear your hair out.”

 

Bucky laughed, shaking his head, more than a little embarrassed. “I’m fine, really, Nick, I promise. I’m just, uh,” he said, blushing, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have a date tonight.”

 

“Ah,” Nick smiled, nodding. “The guy that brought you dinner last night?”

 

“You heard about that?” Bucky laughed. “Yeah, his name is Steve. He’s…he’s really great.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Nick said. “I was also happy that you didn’t go out alone on your dinner break.” When Bucky frowned in confusion, Nick said, “Vinnie told me what happened with Rumlow a few weeks back.”

 

Bucky sighed, looking down at his feet. “Nick…” he trailed off.

 

“If that S.O.B. touches you again, I’m going to have him arrested,” Nick said firmly. When Bucky started to protest, Nick stopped him. “I can’t be watching out for you all the time, son, but when you’re here, I’m gonna make damn sure that you’re safe.”

 

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “Thanks, Nick. Vinnie can be very persuasive, so I’m hoping Brock finally got the message.”

 

Nick took a seat, stretching his legs out with a groan. “So, tell me about Steve.”

 

The smile that stretched over Bucky’s face lit up the room. “Oh, my god, Nick, he’s just…beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and he’s really nice to me,” Bucky said, sighing happily. “He’s so much fun, and when we hang out together, I feel good, ya know? We’ve only been dating for about a month and a half, but it almost feels like we’ve been friends for ages, it’s just that easy to talk to him.”

 

“And you do _talk,_ right?” Nick asked, sounding very much like a concerned father. “It’s not just physical?”

 

Bucky blushed, which Nick found encouraging. “We talk more than anything else,” he said, chuckling. “I’m hoping to change that tonight.”

 

Nick raised his visible eyebrow. “As long as you’re both on the same page. Not trying to force something?”

 

“Oh, we are,” Bucky nodded emphatically, his eyes wide. “Why do you think I’m going crazy right now? I’m counting the minutes until he gets here.”

 

Nick laughed. “Alright, then. I won’t keep you.” He got his feet under him and stood up, leaning on his cane. “Be safe and have fun. I’ll see you Monday.”

 

For the next couple of hours, Bucky stayed as busy as possible, practically vibrating with anticipation. Five minutes before five o’clock, the front door opened and Steve came in, looking so gorgeous and delicious that Bucky had to grab a table to stop from launching himself into his arms. Steve walked up to him with bright eyes, pink cheeks, and a big smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly.

 

“Hi, Stevie,” Bucky breathed, smiling so hard that his cheeks were getting sore. “I, uh, I just need to go get my backpack and clock out, okay?” he said, pointing over his shoulder toward the office.

 

“Sure, Buck. I’ll be waiting for you right here,” he said, and Bucky turned and just about ran for the office door.

 

Bucky powered his way through the office, grabbing his backpack from his locker and clocking out—a couple minutes early, but who cares—and making his way back to Steve, who, as promised, hadn’t moved an inch. One of the weekend sales associates, Carol, had come up to him, however, and was definitely leaning in toward Steve, who, though he was nodding and smiling politely, had his arms folded across his chest and was turned away to the side.

 

“All set!” Bucky announced, Steve opening his arms as Bucky moved right into his space. He stood on his toes and dropped a kiss right on Steve’s smiling lips before turning to Carol to say, “Have a good evening, Carol.”

 

She had backed up immediately upon realizing that the gorgeous blond man was very much taken and said cheerfully, if a little sheepishly, “Thanks, Bucky, enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

 

“I intend to,” he said, taking Steve’s hand with a huge grin. “Let’s go, Stevie,” he said, pulling him toward the door.

 

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to kiss you inside the store,” Steve chuckled.

 

“I’m off the clock,” Bucky said, smiling. “You are fair game, mister.”

 

Steve laughed and tugged Bucky closer, putting his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and leaning down to kiss the side of his head. “I’m so happy to see you, baby,” he whispered.

 

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and hugged him hard. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he laughed. “I feel like I’m about to explode.”

 

Steve pushed the front door open and the two men walked outside, holding on to each other. “Dinner first, sweetheart,” he teased. Bucky groaned in response as Steve laughed and led them both to his car, exchanging small kisses as they went.

 

Neither of them saw the man glowering from the shadows across the street, the angry expression on his face getting darker and darker as he watched them get into Steve’s car and drive away.

 

***

 

Once back at Steve’s place, Bucky took off his jacket and gave it to Steve, who was removing his as well, for Steve to hang in the closet by the front door. He kicked his shoes off, leaving them by the door, and then held up his backpack, asking, “Is it okay if I put this in your room?”

 

“Absolutely, baby, make yourself at home,” Steve said as he toed off his shoes, lining them up next to Bucky’s. “I’m going to finish putting dinner together, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky smiled, “I’ll be right back.”

 

Bucky practically skipped down the hall to Steve’s room and put his backpack down next to the dresser. He looked longingly at the bed—neatly made up with fresh sheets, of course, because Steve—but he managed to pull himself away, wash his hands, brush his hair, and then go back to the kitchen, where the gorgeous blond man in question was stirring a light cream sauce in a pan.

 

Bucky came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Whatcha makin’, handsome? It smells delicious,” he asked, kissing in between his shoulder blades.

 

“I grilled up some chicken, so I thought we could have that with some fettuccine and a light alfredo sauce,” he answered with a grin, holding Bucky’s arms around his midsection. “There’s salad in the fridge and bread getting warm in the oven, too.”

 

“Oh, my god, you are so good to me,” Bucky sighed, nuzzling against him. “Can I do anything?”

 

“Do you want something to drink?” Steve asked. “I have beer and wine, or bottled water if you’d rather.”

 

“I could have some wine,” Bucky said, going to the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of white. “Glasses?” he asked Steve.

 

“Right in there,” Steve said, pointing to the cabinet by the refrigerator at the end of the counter.

 

“Want some?” Bucky asked, retrieving two wine glasses and wiggling one in Steve’s direction.

 

“Yes, please,” he said, stirring the sauce. He drizzled some onto a spoon and tasted it, then added a bit more black pepper. Once it was stirred in, he added the fettuccine and tossed it together.

 

Bucky uncorked the wine and filled each glass halfway. Putting the bottle back in the refrigerator, he picked up the two glasses and walked over to Steve. “Here you are,” he said, handing Steve the glass.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, taking a sip. “Everything will be ready in just a few minutes.”

 

Bucky set his glass down on the island counter and hopped up to sit on the edge. “So come here and kiss me properly, mister. I’ve been dying for you to get your hands on me,” he said, reaching for Steve with grabby hands.

 

“Aww,” Steve chuckled, setting his glass down next to Bucky’s and stepping between his knees. “I’ve missed you, baby. Haven’t seen you anywhere near enough this week.” He kissed Bucky’s cheek, then trailed a finger lightly along his jawline. “Never seen you so close shaven before, either. You look so pretty,” he whispered as Bucky shivered happily.

 

“I’ve missed you, too, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, taking Steve’s arms and pulling them around his waist so that their chests were flush together. “Been goin’ out of my damn mind since Thursday.”

 

Steve kissed him softly, running his hands up and down Bucky’s back. “But you’ve been a good little boy, haven’t you, honey?” he asked quietly, a bit of firmness in his question. “Didn’t touch yourself, did you?”

 

“Not once,” Bucky said with conviction. “Not even this morning, and I swear I thought I was going to blow just from putting underwear on.”

 

“Such a good boy,” Steve purred, kissing under Bucky’s ear, making him shudder. “I’m gonna make it so good for you, I promise.”

 

“Soon? Please?” Bucky asked, his head tipping back. His legs curled around Steve’s hips, pulling him in closer.

 

“After dinner, sweetheart, you need to eat to keep your strength up,” he replied, kissing Bucky one last time before pulling back slightly, as Bucky whimpered. “Now, why don’t you go over to the table and I’ll bring the food out.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky exhaled with a smile. When Steve backed up, he slid off the counter to the floor, and then turned to pick up their wine glasses before walking around the island and moving to the table.

 

Steve had already set the table, and the two place settings were kitty-corner at the table, rather than across from each other. Bucky smiled, realizing that Steve didn’t want a whole table in between them while they ate. He sat Steve’s glass down at the place closer to the kitchen, while he sat down at the other.

 

He watched Steve moving easily through the kitchen, obviously comfortable cooking an actual meal, which Bucky absolutely adored. Within a couple of minutes, he had brought over a salad bowl and two plates of chicken and pasta, as well as a small basket of bread. Once he took his seat, he leaned over and kissed Bucky, smiling as he said, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

 

“Thank you for having me over,” Bucky said a little bashfully. “This is really nice of you.”

 

“I enjoy doing things for you, taking care of you,” Steve said quietly. “Seeing you happy makes me happy.” He sat back, then, and picked up his fork. “Let’s eat. I have plans for later.”

 

Bucky grinned, quirking an eyebrow. “So do I,” he mumbled, giggling when Steve narrowed his eyes at him playfully.

 

Bucky managed to control himself through dinner, thoroughly enjoying the delicious meal that Steve had prepared for them. Not that he hadn’t teased Steve a bit, moaning at the wonderful food and licking his lips; Bucky was, after all, sporting a semi that he’d had from the time Steve had walked into the bookstore. He smiled to himself when Steve had squirmed in his chair after he had said, “This is _so good,_ Stevie,” in a rough, sexy voice.

 

They both had a second glass of wine, which Bucky thought was probably a good idea—he was literally shaking with anticipation, and the wine helped to relax him considerably. Steve, however, didn’t want to take any chances that Bucky would become intoxicated; he put the wine bottle away and came back with two water glasses. Bucky giggled at first, then realized that maybe he had a point. He drank down the whole glass.

 

Steve watched him, smiling, and then he gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink. When he came back and sat at the table, his eyes were fully on Bucky, just watching. Bucky began to feel a little self-conscious, and he blushed in response.

 

“God, you are so fucking gorgeous,” Steve said softly, his voice sounding so deep and dark that Bucky shuddered, head-to-toe, goose bumps erupting in a wave over his skin. “I could literally just look at you for hours,” he continued, leaning forward to cup his right hand under Bucky’s jaw and trail his thumb down his cheekbone. “I would love to draw you sometime, to try and capture your beautiful face, your incredible body.”

 

He drew his thumb over Bucky’s bottom lip, brushing the plump flesh, when Bucky pressed a kiss to it and flicked the tip of his tongue against it. Steve moaned, pushing the tip of his thumb into Bucky’s mouth. “Your mouth is like heaven,” Steve whispered roughly when Bucky sucked on it, “feels so perfect wrapped around me.” He took his thumb from Bucky’s mouth, making him whine unhappily, until Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and pulled him close. “Love your mouth the most when it’s on mine,” Steve moaned harshly, laying claim to Bucky’s lips in a hard, hot, demanding kiss that he felt all the way down in his toes.

 

Bucky was lost, leaning into the kiss as his heart galloped in his chest. Every sense was taken over, and Steve was the only thing he knew or cared about. Their tongues met and danced together, Steve leading every step masterfully. His fingers curled in Bucky’s hair, tugging lightly, making him moan into their kiss, and Steve smiled against his lips. It was an incredible feeling, and Bucky never wanted it to end.

 

Too soon, however, Steve began to pull away—and Bucky’s hand darted out, grabbing his shirt to prevent him from leaning back any farther. “Wait,” he said, curling his fingers into Steve’s collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys. They're so sweet. :D
> 
> Thanks to you all for you comments and kudos! Everyone has been so kind and supportive--it definitely makes it even more rewarding.
> 
> Next chapter: Bow Chicka Wow Wow
> 
> <3


	9. Make It All Happen For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, people! The wait is over! Close to 8,000 words of fluff, smut, and feels. :D

 

They sat there for a few moments, their faces just inches apart, and Bucky could feel the anticipation building higher with every second that passed. His heart was pounding, and his breaths were rapid and shallow as he held onto Steve’s shirt. Steve’s eyes, hot and searching on his, kept darting down to look at Bucky’s red, wet, kiss-bruised lips. “Steve,” Bucky whispered, a tone of neediness creeping in.

 

“Yeah, Buck?” he responded softly, watching Bucky’s lips as he spoke.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; there was only the sound of his shaky inhalation followed by a low whine from the back of his throat. That, however, was apparently all Steve had been waiting for.

 

He lunged across the space between them, crashing their lips together. Refusing to break from their kiss, Steve kept his hand wrapped around the back of Bucky’s neck, holding him in place as he got to his feet, then he gently pulled Bucky to him as he got closer. Once they were both standing, Steve wrapped both arms around Bucky’s waist and hoisted him up, flush against his chest.

 

Bucky’s hands slid up over Steve’s shoulders and into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. They clung to each other, all the tension from the past week spilling over. When the need for oxygen became too much to ignore, Steve wove one hand into Bucky’s hair and gently pulled his head back. “Please,” Bucky moaned, his eyes almost rolling back as Steve kissed and nipped at his throat, the whiskers from Steve’s beard scratching deliciously against the sensitive skin under his ear.

 

“Please what, baby?” Steve asked, his lips picking up the vibrations from Bucky’s voice. He hummed in response, and Bucky gasped, his fingers digging into the hard, thick muscles of Steve’s shoulders.

 

“Oh, god, please Stevie,” Bucky cried, holding Steve close. He couldn’t even articulate what he wanted, he just _wanted_ so much. His cock had been rock hard from the moment Steve had pulled him up against his stupidly ridiculous chest, and he began to squirm, trying to get some friction.

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve purred, gentling his kisses—much to Bucky’s frustration. He whimpered as Steve mouthed softly at his Adam’s apple. “Do you need me to take care of you, baby boy?”

 

“ _Please,_ ” Bucky keened, wrapping his arms tightly around Steve’s shoulders. Bucky’s head lolled to the side as he melted against him. “Need you so much, Stevie.”

 

Steve had turned and begun walking Bucky backward, Bucky’s toes just touching the floor, guiding him toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, when he suddenly stopped. “What did you call me?” Steve asked, a thread of steel weaving its way into his voice.

 

“Huh? What?” Bucky asked, confused. He picked his head up and blinked dazedly. “What happened?”

 

“If you want me to take care of you,” Steve said deeply and evenly, “you need to address me properly.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said, his eyes widening as he met Steve’s unwavering gaze. His heart rate immediately rocketed and he licked his lips nervously. “ _Daddy,_ ” he whispered softly, watching as his eyes darkened with lust. Bucky felt Steve’s hard shaft pressing against his lower abdomen as he stood on his toes, and he shifted to grind his own turgid erection shamelessly against it. “ _Please,_ Daddy, I need you so much,” he breathed, excitement and desperation pitching his voice higher. “Please take me to bed.”

 

Steve full-on _growled_ and lifted Bucky in his arms as if he was weightless, one arm under his ass and the other around his midsection. “I’d love to, sweet boy,” he said roughly, moving down the hallway with purpose, Bucky hiding his face in Steve’s throat. With Bucky’s legs wrapped around his waist, Steve was grateful for the double doors leading into his bedroom; he was able to carry Bucky through without turning sideways. He slowed as he approached the large bed, his big right hand caressing over Bucky’s back.

 

He placed one knee on the bed and slowly lowered Bucky onto its soft, fluffy surface. Unable to resist its downy gloriousness, Bucky’s arms fell over his head and he stretched, back arching, hips twisting, soft mewling sounds escaping his throat, his legs tightening around Steve’s waist and pulling him closer. “Mmm,” he hummed, opening his eyes to look at Steve, who hovered above him, smiling fondly. “This is the most amazing bed,” Bucky sighed happily.

 

“I knew it,” Steve teased, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it away before falling forward with his hands on either side of Bucky’s shoulders. “You only want me for my excellent taste in furniture.”

 

“That’s not the only reason,” Bucky replied snarkily, “but it is very high on the list.” He picked his arms up and brought his hands to Steve’s pecs, caressing them lightly. “The furniture is on the list right after these crazy gorgeous tits of yours.”

 

“So glad to hear my chest ranks above the coffee table,” he laughed, lowering himself to his elbows, still bracing himself above the brunet. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s torso, his hands constantly moving, squeezing gently whenever he found a handful of muscle, which was all the damn time. “Now,” Steve said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper, “didn’t you say you wanted me to take care of you?”

 

As he spoke, he dropped his pelvis slowly into the cradle of Bucky’s thighs, just barely brushing their swollen shafts together. Bucky gasped, his hips jerking up of their own accord, as his arms tightened around Steve’s back.

 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Bucky moaned, trying to keep Steve close enough to grind against.

 

“You’ve been so good, waiting for Daddy to take care of you. I’m gonna give you everything you want, sweet boy,” Steve purred, gently nudging Bucky’s head to the side and nuzzling under his ear, inhaling his unique scent. It was warm and musky, with a hint of spiciness and so _Bucky_ that Steve knew he’d be able to pick him out of a room full of people by scent alone. “You only need to tell me.”

 

When Bucky whimpered, straining to pull Steve even closer, he asked, “Can you do that, baby? Can you tell Daddy what you want?”

 

Bucky groaned, his whole body shuddering. “Ye—Yes, Daddy, I—I can do that,” he stammered.

 

“Good boy,” Steve replied reassuringly, stroking softly down the side of Bucky’s face, soothing him. He continued to kiss Bucky’s cheeks and jawline, occasionally dragging his teeth across sensitive areas, listening to Bucky’s gasps and hitching breaths. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he cooed.

 

Rather than speak right away, Bucky hugged him tight, reveling in the smell of Steve’s skin and the feeling of the warm, solid mass of his body. “Need you,” he whispered, sounding almost reluctant to voice his desires.

 

“You’ve got me, Bucky, I’m right here,” Steve said, pulling back to look at him. He smoothed a few strands of hair from Bucky’s face, caressing along his cheekbone gently with the backs of his fingers. “You can trust me, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice deep and calming. “I’ll never do anything you’re not comfortable with, and any time you want to stop, just tell me. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

 

Bucky nodded. “I know, Stevie. I trust you, I do.”

 

“Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss Bucky softly. He kept kissing him—tender little kisses, over and over—until Bucky started to chase him, looking to prolong it. Soon the kisses became eager, hot, and demanding; tongues caressing, teeth nipping already swollen lips, moans and whimpers from one swallowed by the other. Steve’s hand traveled down Bucky’s ribcage to his waist, then down past his thigh, his fingers curling around Bucky’s knee, hitching it over his hip. Steve moaned and rolled his pelvis down, providing the friction they both desperately needed.

 

“Oh, _Daddy,_ ” Bucky groaned, thrusting up against him. “Daddy, that feels so good.”

 

Steve nibbled his way down the column of Bucky’s throat until he reached his collar. “Can we take your shirt off?” he asked, biting at the clothing and tugging it playfully with his teeth.

 

Bucky paused for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” he said, tapping Steve on his shoulders. Steve sat back on his knees, giving Bucky room to move. Bucky sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, lying back down with it in his hands, holding it to his chest.

 

Easily sensing his insecurity, Steve smiled at him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning back down to cover Bucky’s body with his own. He kissed Bucky’s left shoulder while slowly taking the shirt from his hands and tossing it off the bed. Then Steve lightly ran his fingers over the inked lines that covered the uneven tissue. Pulling back to look at Bucky’s face, he grinned. “Even more beautiful up close.”

 

Bucky waited, holding his breath, his own hands resting lightly on Steve’s ribcage. “I know it’s a little weird-looking,” he began, but Steve cut him off.

 

“No, honey, you’re not weird-looking, not even a little,” Steve asserted, shaking his head. “You’re strong and brave and gorgeous, and I am so thankful that you’re here.” He kissed Bucky’s shoulder again, listening to his breath catch. “This brought you to me. Other than taking away all your pain, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick with pent-up emotion.

 

Steve met his eyes, which were full of naked vulnerability. “Yes, baby?”

 

Bucky’s hands slid up Steve’s chest and over his shoulders, his arms and legs wrapping around him as he hugged him tight, as tightly as he could, his face turned into Steve’s throat. Steve could feel him trembling, could hear the shakiness in his breathing as he tried to communicate without speaking just how much Steve’s words meant to him.

 

“My sweet, brave, beautiful boy,” Steve murmured, cradling Bucky’s head in his big, warm hands. “I’m so happy we met. I feel so lucky that you chose me; so incredibly lucky that I get to be the one to take care of you. There couldn’t ever be a more perfect baby boy in the whole world than you.”

 

Bucky whimpered, the sound muffled slightly against Steve’s skin. He then moved his head slightly to rub against Steve, almost like a cat scent-marking his favorite person, and Steve smiled in response. “All I want is to make you happy,” Steve whispered, ducking his head slightly to nuzzle and kiss at Bucky’s hair.

 

“You do,” Bucky said quietly, turning his face to place soft kisses along Steve’s throat. “I feel so safe with you. Never thought I could feel like this.”

 

“Do I make you feel good, sweetheart?” Steve asked, leaning down to nibble at the joint between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

 

Bucky gasped shallowly, goose bumps rising on his chest. “So good,” he sighed. His arms loosened their hold around Steve’s neck, but his hands crept up into Steve’s hair, his fingers combing through the soft, golden strands, still holding him close. His head fell back as Steve peppered his throat with tiny kisses and bites, the soft but wiry hair of his beard tickling and scratching as he moved.

 

Steve dragged his teeth along Bucky’s collarbone and then started to move down his sternum, interspersing soft kisses with sharp nips and warm, wet drags of his tongue over tender, naked skin. Steve ran his right hand down Bucky’s ribcage and around his waist, settling under him at the small of his back. Bucky had his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, using that to hold him as close as possible. Steve slid his hand under Bucky’s ass, pressing the smaller man’s hips up at the same time he rolled his own pelvis down, creating exquisite friction for both of them.

 

Bucky gasped, his fingers curling tightly into Steve’s hair. Steve moaned, moving to lick over Bucky’s nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Oh, fuck!” Bucky cried, his back arching sharply.

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, kissing the hard nub and rubbing it with his wet bottom lip as he watched Bucky writhe underneath him. “My beautiful baby boy,” he sighed happily. He brought his hand to the front of Bucky’s jeans, gently palming the bulge of his swollen shaft. “Can I take your pants off, sweetheart? Make you more comfortable?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky nodded quickly, finally releasing Steve’s hair, simply saying, “Please.”

 

Steve grinned and slowly unbuttoned and unzipped Bucky’s jeans. He then sat up on his knees and shimmied Bucky’s pants down over his hips. Once he had worked them down and off Bucky’s legs and dropped them on the floor, followed by his socks, he trailed his fingers from Bucky’s ankles to his knees and back down again, watching the goose bumps come and go. “Still okay, baby?” Steve asked.

 

“Still okay,” Bucky responded, smiling. He understood that Steve was checking in frequently in order for him to feel safe; maybe it was time for Bucky to show Steve _exactly_ how safe he felt. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down over his jutting hipbones. “Want you, Daddy,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip. Steve’s eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, watching as Bucky lifted his hips and pushed his briefs lower and lower. “Do you want me, too?” he asked prettily, pitching his voice slightly higher.

 

“So fuckin’ much, baby boy,” Steve ground out, his voice deep and delicious, sending Bucky into a full-body shudder. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his arms and lowering his head to whisper in Bucky’s ear. “Wanna kiss and lick and taste every inch of your gorgeous body, and then, after I’ve opened you up nice and slow with my tongue and my fingers, I wanna slide my cock into your sweet, tight, hot little ass and fuck you hard and deep. Does that sound nice, sweetheart?”

 

“Oh, my god, Daddy, _please,_ ” Bucky cried, the words sounding strangled and broken, and he rushed to finish pushing his briefs down over his hips and thighs. His hardened shaft sprang free and slapped his stomach, smearing the clear pre-ejaculate fluid across his abdomen. He whined as he then wrapped his arms around Steve’s torso and tried to pull him down, only to have Steve resist his efforts. “Touch me, please, Daddy, c’mon,” he begged, arching his back, trying to attain contact.

 

Steve chuckled under his breath. “Patience, baby,” he said softly, biting and tugging Bucky’s earlobe gently. When Bucky whimpered and continued squirming underneath him, Steve nipped a little harder, making him yelp. “Don’t you want to be patient for me? Be my good boy?”

 

“Mmm, yes, Daddy, I will, I promise,” Bucky moaned. “I’ll be so good for you.” He stopped pulling on Steve, restraining himself, happy now to run his hands over Steve’s back and sides, feeling his gloriously hard muscles.

 

“I know you will, sweetheart. You’re my perfect baby boy,” Steve murmured soothingly, placing his big right hand in the middle of Bucky’s chest, feeling how relaxed and pliant Bucky became with only a few kind words and gentle touches. Knowing how starved Bucky had been for praise and affection caused him to tense up for a moment—how anyone could be cruel to such a beautiful, loving man was beyond him; he was everything sweet and caring, and Steve swore that he would only bring happiness into his life for as long as Bucky let him. “Look at you, my pretty baby, so good, so sweet,” he said, kissing Bucky’s cheek and down his throat, hearing Bucky sigh, now utterly content to let Steve touch and kiss him as much as he wanted.

 

Steve kissed and licked over to Bucky’s right shoulder and down his arm, stopping briefly to nibble at the inside of his elbow, which made Bucky giggle, before picking up his right hand and kissing his palm. He moved slowly to Bucky’s other side, telegraphing his motion so Bucky wouldn’t be startled or surprised. Steve pressed the softest of kisses on the top of his left shoulder, where the scar tissue began, and with the tip of his tongue, traced down the largest of the scars, which ran the length of his bicep. He kissed the red star, on the outside of Bucky’s shoulder, at the same time that he took Bucky’s left hand in his own.

 

Bringing Bucky’s left hand up to kiss his palm, Steve then pressed it to his face, smiling as Bucky curled his fingers, lightly scratching his whiskers. When Steve dropped his head to begin kissing his way down Bucky’s body once more, he combed his fingers into Steve’s hair, humming quietly. Steve snuck a glance at his face; Bucky’s eyes were closed and he was smiling, clearly trusting Steve to take care of him.

 

Steve pushed himself up onto his knees and, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Bucky’s briefs, which were pushed halfway down his thighs, said, “Let’s get these off, okay, baby?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky sighed, still smiling. He picked his feet up, letting Steve slide them the rest of the way off and toss them aside. Steve took Bucky’s ankles in his hands and set his feet flat on the bed, with his knees raised. When Bucky made a little disgruntled type of sound, Steve stopped.

 

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, slowly caressing his calves.

 

“Daddy,” Bucky whined playfully, “you have so many clothes on. That’s not fair.” He stuck his bottom lip out in a teasing pout.

 

Steve grinned broadly. “Well, I am all about fairness,” he said, scooting backward off the bed and getting to his feet, Bucky propping himself up on his right elbow to watch. He unbuttoned his pants and slowly pulled down the zipper, watching Bucky’s expression the entire time. He watched as Bucky’s eyes grew wider and more heated as he pushed his pants and briefs to the floor, stepping out of them and his socks and kicking them away. His shaft, completely hard and red, curled up toward his abdomen.

 

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky whispered, the hunger in his eyes making Steve’s heart beat faster. “You are fucking unreal.”

 

Steve reached over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer, pulling out a condom and a mostly-full bottle of lube, which he dropped onto the bed beside them. “You, sweetheart,” he said, “are gorgeous beyond my wildest fantasies. I never could have dreamed up someone as beautiful as you.”

 

Bucky blushed, smiling happily, as Steve settled back on the bed, kneeling between his feet. Steve just stared at him for a few seconds, caressing his calves, before saying, “I feel like I should have brought this up earlier, but I want you to know that I’m clean. I got tested at my last physical right after my birthday in July. I have the report if you want to see it.”

 

Bucky blinked a couple of times before huffing a laugh. “I believe you, Stevie. I’m clean, too—I got tested, right after I left Brock.” He frowned a little. “I have the report at home.”

 

“I believe you, baby,” Steve smiled, echoing Bucky’s words. “We’re going to be safe, regardless, right?”

 

“Right, Stevie,” he grinned in response.

 

Steve continued to run his hands soothingly over Bucky’s legs, leaning over to kiss a kneecap. “I want you to be comfortable, baby boy,” Steve said. “So we’re using the traffic light system, okay? Is that alright with you?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky nodded, biting his lip.

 

“If you want to slow down or stop, what do you say?” Steve asked. He was fully aware that Bucky knew these things, but Steve wanted him to understand that he was taking it seriously.

 

“Yellow to slow down and red to stop,” Bucky said. Steve could hear his breathing speed up, saw his chest rising and falling faster.

 

“And if you want me to keep going?” Steve grinned.

 

“Green, green, green, Daddy,” Bucky said excitedly.

 

“That’s right, sweetheart. I promise I will check in often and I will always listen to you, baby boy,” Steve said slowly and clearly. “I’m trusting you to be honest with me and tell me the truth about how you feel, okay?”

 

“Yes, Daddy, I promise,” Bucky agreed.

 

Steve leaned over and kissed him hard. “Such a good boy,” he breathed, claiming his mouth again. Bucky moaned, grabbing Steve’s hair with both hands, lust making him grip the silky strands hard. “Can’t wait to taste you,” Steve murmured against Bucky’s lips, and was rewarded with a gasp and a shiver, Bucky’s back arching and pressing his hips downward.

 

“God, I might be able to come just from you talking dirty to me,” Bucky said, laughing breathlessly.

 

With another hard kiss, Steve moved quickly down to Bucky’s chest, kissing and sucking his erect nipples as the brunet moaned and writhed. He then moved down to his abdomen, licking up the clear fluid that dripped from his cock, but not touching his shaft, which bobbed and twitched and continued to drip as Steve moved all over Bucky’s body. “Mmm,” he hummed, trailing his tongue over the muscles of Bucky’s toned, defined abs down to this thighs, which he kissed and bit and licked, the moans and whimpers falling from Bucky’s lips sounding like music. “So good,” Steve said, looking up to see Bucky’s head thrown back, his mouth hanging open and his fists clenched in the bed sheets. Steve settled in between Bucky’s thighs and leaned down to kiss the base of his shaft.

 

Bucky gasped and his eyes flew open, looking down at Steve. “Color, baby,” Steve said softly, licking his cock from root to tip.

 

“Green, Daddy,” Bucky answered immediately, moaning the words.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Steve replied, taking the wet, swollen tip of Bucky’s cock in his mouth. He moaned at the salty taste, gripping the base firmly and working his mouth over it loosely, sloppily, getting it wet and slippery. Bucky’s cock was definitely on the larger side of average, but with all of Steve’s childhood ailments and illnesses, his gag reflex was a thing of the distant past. He relaxed his throat and let Bucky’s shaft slip into it, swallowing around it.

 

Bucky groaned jaggedly, “Oh, _fuck,_ ” as his right hand flew to Steve’s hair, petting and stroking it. “Oh, god, Daddy,” he panted, picking his head up to watch Steve’s lips slide up and down his shaft, popping off the head. Steve’s hand worked the base, slick and shiny with his saliva, as he gently sucked Bucky’s balls into his mouth, one at a time, licking over them as Bucky moaned and cursed.

 

Steve hooked his hands behind Bucky’s knees and pushed them up toward his chest, getting up on his knees to kiss and nip at the backs of Bucky’s thighs. “Oh, sweetheart,” Steve purred, “look at that. You have such a pretty little hole.” He licked his first two fingers, getting them good and wet, then he drew careful circles around Bucky’s puckered flesh, listening to him moan and whimper. “Do you like that, baby boy?”

 

“Yes, oh, fuck yes,” Bucky whined, fighting his body’s natural reaction to clench up. He was breathing hard, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow.

 

Steve kissed a round, firm cheek, turning slightly to rub his whiskers against the extremely sensitive skin of his inner thigh, smiling as Bucky began to relax into the pleasurable sensations coursing through him. “It’s been a long time for you, hasn’t it, baby?” Steve asked softly.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky exhaled, nodding jerkily. “Over—oh, fuck—over eight months.”

 

“No penetration in all that time?” he asked quietly, tenderly massaging the pink flesh.

 

“Only with a—a toy, a small one,” Bucky moaned. He chuckled breathily. “Nothing even close to you, believe me.”

 

“We’re going to take this slow,” Steve said, “and I’m going to be so gentle with you. Remember your colors, okay, baby?”

 

“Yes, Daddy, so green,” he sighed, and Steve finally felt the involuntary tension start to leave his muscles.

 

“There you go,” Steve murmured. “Such a good boy.” He lowered his head and licked softly over the tightly furled muscle, feeling Bucky twitch and gasp, but relax again almost immediately. Encouraged, Steve licked harder the next time, and Bucky moaned loudly. Smiling, Steve bathed Bucky’s ass with his warm, wet tongue, thrilled when Bucky began begging him not to stop, to keep going, more, harder. Soon, Bucky was grasping the backs of his knees, pulling himself up higher and wider. Steve covered Bucky’s right hand with his left, entwining their fingers.

 

“How’s that feel, baby?” Steve asked, kissing his loosened ring. He sucked the first two fingers of his right hand into his mouth, making sure they were extra wet, then brought them to Bucky’s hole, rubbing gently.

 

“ _Fuck,_ Stevie,” Bucky sighed, already sounding completely blissed-out, “you are _really_ fucking good at that.”

 

“Just taking care of my baby,” he replied, licking between his fingers. He stiffened his tongue, pressing directly into the center of the ring, feeling as it relaxed under his warm, wet ministrations. “Are you ready for my fingers, sweetheart?”

 

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but for a low moan, while Steve continued to use his tongue to open him up. Just as Steve was about to ask him to check in, Bucky said, “Yeah, yeah, just…slow, please.”

 

“Of course, baby,” Steve assured him, still gently massaging. “I never want to hurt you.” He reached for the bottle of lube and flipped the cap open.

 

***

 

Bucky hadn’t felt this good in… _ever,_ frankly. Steve’s tongue, lips, his whole freaking mouth, really, needed to have songs written about it, it was so incredible. No one had ever taken care of Bucky like this before, been so gentle and careful, or worked so hard to ensure his pleasure. Brock’s idea of prep had been perfunctory at best—negligent at worst—and had usually left Bucky sore, if not actually injured, at least a little. But Steve—oh, fuck, _Steve_ —was so understanding, so tender with him, that all of Bucky’s apprehensions began to melt away.

 

When Bucky heard the bottle of lube open with a faint _click,_ however, he stiffened with an almost Pavlovian response; Steve stilled immediately, asking for Bucky’s color. Bucky had swallowed hard, breathing in short bursts as Steve waited, not moving.

 

“Color, sweetheart,” Steve said again.

 

“Green,” Bucky said, though his voice must have held a note of hesitation, because Steve closed the bottle of lube and set it down, shushing Bucky when he whined unhappily.

 

“Tell me what you want, baby boy, I need for you to say it,” Steve said firmly. He took Bucky’s right hand again and squeezed it lightly. “I am happy to do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he continued softly, “but you need to tell me.”

 

“Daddy,” Bucky whimpered, his heart pounding—not because he was worried that Steve wouldn’t stop, but because he was worried that Steve _would_ stop.

 

“Say it, baby, tell Daddy what you want.”

 

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky begged. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

Steve groaned, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. He turned and licked hard over Bucky’s hole again, moaning at the clean, earthy taste of his beautiful boy. “Say it again, baby,” he rasped, looking at Bucky.

 

Bucky looked Steve square in the eyes, breathing hard. “Fuck me, Daddy.”

 

Steve smiled predatorily, reaching again for the bottle of lube. This time when it opened, Bucky kept his eyes on Steve, watching those black pupils widen, further and further, until there was only a tiny ring of bright blue surrounding them.

 

Bucky flinched at the cool liquid dripping onto his hot flesh, immediately moaning as Steve’s big fingers began to spread the lube over him, slowly and lovingly. Steve was kissing his thighs, nipping lightly, scraping his whiskers over the sensitive skin. He extricated his hand from Bucky’s and took the bottle of lube, pouring it directly onto the fingers that were pressing a little harder against Bucky’s entrance.

 

Steve set the bottle down, spit into his left hand and then gripped Bucky’s shaft, stroking it as he slowly worked a single finger inside his hole. Once the muscle gave way and Steve’s finger slipped inside to the first knuckle, Bucky threw his head back, moaning loudly. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck.”

 

“Slow and easy, sweetheart,” Steve purred, sitting high up on his knees so that he could watch Bucky’s face. He shuffled close so that Bucky could rest his lower back on the tops of Steve’s thighs and just relax. “You’re doing so good, baby, so beautifully.” He continued to stroke Bucky’s cock, not too hard, but enough to be pleasurable and not teasing, while he gently moved the single finger inside him in circles, carefully stretching and relaxing the ring.

 

After a few minutes, Steve began to press deeper, to the next knuckle, and Bucky started to move his hips, seeking greater contact. Steve’s finger skated briefly over his prostate and he moaned, “More, Daddy, please.”

 

“Are you ready for another finger, baby?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded emphatically.

 

“Yes, Daddy, so green, feels so good.”

 

So Steve picked up the lube again and coated a second finger, withdrawing from Bucky briefly before inserting both into his entrance. As soon as Steve was two knuckles deep, though, Bucky’s eyes flew open and he gasped.

 

“Yellow.”

 

Steve stilled immediately, ceasing all motion, and waited, counting to five before asking, “What do you need, sweetheart?’

 

Bucky was breathing slowly and deeply, willing his body to unclench. “You just—you have really big fingers,” Bucky whispered, chuckling lowly.

 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Steve asked, worried—but trying not to sound worried.

 

“There’s a little burn, but it’s okay,” Bucky said, giving Steve a reassuring smile. He waited a few more moments before moving his hips experimentally. “Oh, okay, yeah, that’s better,” he sighed, his eyes sliding shut as his body finally relaxed around the intrusion.

 

“I’m not moving until you give me a new color, okay, honey?” Steve told him.

 

“Okay,” Bucky said, swiveling his hips a bit before nodding. “Green, Daddy. I’m good.”

 

Steve stroked his shaft a few times before moving the two fingers any deeper. “Such a good boy,” he whispered, relieved that he hadn’t hurt the little brunet. “You look so pretty all opened up for me, this gorgeous little ass just made to take my cock.” He carefully scissored his fingers apart, stretching and widening the muscle as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, getting deeper inside.

 

Bucky moaned, internally thanking his yoga classes as he pulled his knees closer to his shoulders. “Making me feel so good, Daddy,” he whimpered, trying to thrust his hips up.

 

After a few minutes, Steve was working the two fingers in and out easily, keeping them well-lubed, and brushing over the tiny nub of nerves that made Bucky gasp and arch. “Do you want more, baby boy? Want another finger?” Steve asked.

 

“Want you to fuck me, Daddy,” Bucky whined. “Want your cock in me.”

 

“Fuck,” Steve swore, a shudder working its way down his spine. “Need to give you three fingers then, sweetheart, need to make sure you’re ready.” Lubing up the next finger, Steve slowly, oh-so-slowly, inserted it alongside the other two, pausing every centimeter to let Bucky acclimate.

 

“Jesus, _fuck,_ Steve, your fingers are fuckin’ huge,” Bucky gritted out, but before Steve could slow down even more, he said, “I’m so fucking green, Stevie, don’t you dare stop.”

 

“My fingers are proportional to the rest of me,” Steve said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but sounding wrecked and breathless instead, which made Bucky bark out a laugh, immediately becoming a moan as his muscles contracted around Steve’s fingers.

 

“Your cock must be like a giant redwood,” he said, smiling dazedly. “Can’t wait to get it in me.”

 

Steve groaned, “Dammit, Buck, you’re killing me here.”

 

“Sorry, Daddy,” he said, grinning like the sassy little shit he was—until a second later, when he was suddenly shouting, “Oh, fuck! Right there, oh, my _god!_ ”

 

“That’s more like it,” Steve grinned, working the three fingers in and out, getting generous amounts of lube inside him. “Gettin’ my baby ready to take my cock, wanna make it so good for you.”

 

“I’m ready, Daddy, I’m ready,” Bucky cried, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

 

“Just a little more, sweetheart,” Steve said, making sure to spread his fingers widely as he twisted his hand one way and then the other, loosening him as much as possible. “Fuck, I wish you could see this, you’re so gorgeous.” He reached for the condom packet and tore it open with his teeth. “Okay, baby, you’re ready.” He pulled his fingers out of Bucky’s hole and rolled the condom onto his shaft, lubing it well, before grabbing one of his firmer pillows and sliding it under Bucky’s lower back.

 

“I wanna see your face the whole time, baby boy,” Steve said, leaning down to take Bucky’s cock in his mouth, sucking hard and slicking it up. Once it was wet and slippery, he took it in hand and sat up, crowded in close, and placed the head of his cock against Bucky’s hole. He stroked Bucky’s shaft firmly as he pressed against the ringed muscle, which gave way with just a little push, allowing the big, swollen head of Steve’s cock to pop inside. “Holy fu—oh, my god,” Steve moaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so hot and tight around me.”

 

“ _Oh, Jesus,_ ” Bucky keened, panting with short, quick breaths. “I was right—you are a giant fucking redwood.”

 

“Keep talking to me, baby,” Steve said, sweat starting to bead on his brow. “I’m gonna go slow, but tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, breathing rapidly.

 

Steve pushed in, only an inch or so at a time, drawing back a bit, then pushing forward again, fighting the urge to sink immediately inside the tight, all-encompassing heat of Bucky’s ass. He managed to get about half of his cock inside before Bucky gritted out, “Yellow.”

 

Steve halted, clenching his teeth as he counted to ten in his head. “It’s okay if it’s too much, baby,” he said, as he felt his shaft throbbing. “I won’t move until you give me a color.”

 

“I’m okay, just need to rest for a minute,” Bucky said, smiling up at Steve’s concerned face. “You’re a lot to take in all at once.”

 

“Take all the time you need, baby boy,” Steve said, stroking over Bucky’s cock with his right hand, coating it with lube.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky shivered a few moments later as his body relaxed. “Green, Stevie.”

 

Steve moved so slowly, so carefully from then on, that Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head at the feeling of being so gently and completely filled. When Steve’s pelvis met his ass, Bucky grinned the dopiest, most fucked-out grin Steve had ever seen. “How are you, baby boy?” he asked, leaning over Bucky braced on his left arm, while his right hand continued to stroke Bucky’s cock.

 

“Super fucking green, Daddy,” he moaned, looking happily up at Steve. “You have the biggest dick ever.”

 

Steve tried not to laugh, but it was difficult. He settled instead for a soft kiss, sucking on Bucky’s bottom lip and letting it drag free from his teeth. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move, sweetheart,” he whispered in Bucky’s ear.

 

For a minute or so, Bucky was content to lie still, letting his body adjust to the literally humongous dick up his ass, Steve gently kissing him and stroking his shaft the whole time; soon, however, he began to wriggle a bit. It was feeling better and better every second, and when he hitched his legs slightly to plant his heels on Steve’s backside, he inhaled sharply. “Oh!”

 

“Yeah, baby boy?” Steve asked, straightening up and changing the angle of his shaft within Bucky’s body, just enough to press directly against his prostate.

 

“Ahh!” Bucky gasped, both hands fisting in the bed sheets. “Oh, oh, my god, Steve, move, please,” he begged.

 

“ _Yes,_ baby,” Steve exhaled slowly, as if he was finally letting out a breath he’d been holding. He started by only pulling out a couple of inches, then very slowly pushing back in. He groaned at the tight— _unbelievably_ tight, holy shit—grip Bucky’s ass had on him. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he sighed, rolling his hips in a small circle, letting Bucky get used to his size.

 

“More, Daddy,” Bucky moaned, arching his back slightly. “Need more.”

 

“Such a perfect— _ah, fuck_ —perfect little boy, taking Daddy’s cock so well, even better than I imagined,” he murmured. He picked up the lube, pouring a good amount into his right hand, which he slathered onto his shaft as he pulled out, even further this time, before carefully thrusting back in. He let the excess lube drip from his hand onto Bucky’s stretched rim, spreading it around with his fingers. Then he hooked Bucky’s right leg over his left elbow, held his hip tightly, gripped Bucky’s cock in his right hand and stroked it firmly.

 

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky shouted, his head falling back, as Steve carefully picked up speed, pushing in a little harder, a little faster, the sound of their wet skin slapping against each other filling the room.

 

“Like Daddy’s cock in you, baby boy? Gimme a color, sweetheart,” Steve grunted.

 

“Oh, god, so fucking green, Daddy!” he cried, his voice pitching higher as Steve’s shaft dragged over his prostate. Steve’s dick was so big, frankly, that he couldn’t miss it; every push, every pull pressed on the sensitive bundle of nerve endings. The steady rhythm had him seeing stars, every thrust sending him higher and higher; he had never felt like this in his entire life and he _never_ wanted it to end. Soon, though, the heat started building and he could feel his balls tightening up.

 

“Oh, fuck Daddy, I’m getting so close,” Bucky keened, his toes curling as his back arched. “Feels so good, don’t stop, Daddy, please!”

 

“Gonna come for Daddy, baby boy? Gonna squeeze Daddy’s cock so hard, come all over it and make a pretty mess?” Steve said, breathing heavily. He tightened his grip on Bucky’s shaft, stroking hard.

 

“Oh, oh, yes, Daddy, _yes!_ ” he screamed, his head thrown back.

 

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Steve moaned, feeling Bucky’s dick pulse in his hand, spurting thick, white fluid over his abdomen and his chest, even hitting his chin, while Bucky’s hole spasmed around his cock, robbing him of coherent thought. Steve slowed his thrusts momentarily, but as soon as Bucky’s orgasm began to wane, he released Bucky’s cock and sped up his hips again.

 

Leaning forward and bracing himself on his right elbow, Steve buried his left hand into Bucky’s hair, tipping his head back and kissing him hard. “Gonna come in you, sweetheart, gonna come so hard, so deep in you, wanna fill you up,” he growled, licking the come off Bucky’s chin.

 

“Come in me, Daddy,” Bucky whispered with a wide, tired smile, heavy eyelids blinking slowly. He was absolutely _fuck-drunk_ , and Steve thought he had never looked more beautiful.

 

“Gorgeous, perfect baby boy, never been like this, can’t believe you’re mine, you’re so fuckin’ amazing,” Steve whispered, rambling, feeling the end rapidly approaching as his hips jerked erratically. When he came, the burning wave of pleasure washing over him, he felt Bucky wrap his arms around him, holding him tight as he ground his pelvis against his little boy’s ass, gasping and moaning a slew of half-words and obscenities. It was the most incredible feeling; Steve was pretty sure he’d never come so hard in his entire life.

 

When it was finally over, he dropped his head down, resting it on Bucky’s right shoulder, breathing hard. He gave himself a minute, maybe less, before grasping the base of the condom and slowly pulling out. Bucky whined and squirmed at the sudden feeling of emptiness; Steve kissed him gently, shushing him with soft words.

 

Steve sat back on his knees, carefully pulled the condom off, tied it and dropped it into the wastebasket by the bed. Next he grabbed a few wipes, cleaning off his hands, his dick, and his stomach, then gently wiping Bucky down as well, speaking to him softly all the while. After everything had been thrown away, he laid down, scooping Bucky into his arms and pulling him close, whispering how incredible and wonderful, how perfect he was, and Bucky melted into him.

 

“Hey, beautiful boy,” he cooed a little while later, nuzzling and kissing Bucky’s sweat-damp hair. “How are you, baby? Are you okay?”

 

Bucky was sprawled across Steve’s chest, his left arm around Steve’s torso, humming softly. “So good, Daddy,” he murmured. “So sleepy.”

 

“I’m going to go run us a bath in a few minutes, alright? Get you cleaned up properly,” Steve told him.

 

“Too tired,” Bucky mumbled, cuddling into his side.

 

“I’ll take care of everything, sweetheart,” Steve assured him, trailing fingertips up and down Bucky’s spine, watching goose bumps travel down his back. He began to softly trace the outline of the red star on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re so beautiful,” Steve said, pleased that Bucky’s only reaction was to snuggle closer. “I’m so lucky that you’re mine, my sweet, perfect baby boy.”

 

Bucky made an adorably sleepy noise that made Steve’s heart clench. He gave Bucky another squeeze before saying, “Alright, sweetheart, I’m going to run the bath now.” When he whined and buried his face in Steve’s neck, Steve said, “I need to clean you up, Buck. You can stay here until it’s ready.”

 

Bucky pouted as Steve slid out from underneath him. “Okay, Daddy. Just don’t take too long.” He pressed his face into Steve’s pillow, sighing happily.

 

Steve reached over to Bucky’s other side, pulling the duvet over him. “I’ll be quick, baby, I promise,” he said, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky hummed, smiling, looking absolutely cozy and delectable all curled up in Steve’s bed.

 

Steve walked into the bathroom and turned the lights on, choosing to keep it dim and intimate. He turned to the bathtub—more pleased than ever before that he had gotten the extra-long soaker tub when he remodeled—and turned on the faucet. Once he set the temperature where he wanted it, he closed the drain and let it fill. He searched under the cabinets for the Epsom bath salts that he liked, infused with lavender and bergamot, and poured a healthy scoop into the water. He inhaled as the soft scent filled the air, feeling totally relaxed already.

 

As the bath filled, Steve pulled out a new toothbrush, a new spool of dental floss, a fresh tube of toothpaste, and a new bottle of mouthwash, knowing how fastidious Bucky was about oral hygiene, and set them on the counter by the second sink, hereafter to be known—in Steve’s mind, at least—as ‘Bucky’s sink.’ Next he found some body wash, shampoo, and conditioner and set them by the tub with a washcloth and two towels. When everything was ready, he shut off the water and walked into the bedroom.

 

He walked over to Bucky’s side and smiled. This was a sight he could get used to very quickly; his beautiful boy, dozing peacefully in his bed, looking so relaxed and comfortable that Steve hated to disturb him. But, unfortunately, sweat, lube, and come were sticky and itchy if left to dry, so it was time to get clean. “Bucky,” he whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes and kissing his temple, “the bath is ready. Let’s go wash up.”

 

“Nnngh,” Bucky whined softly, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbled.

 

“Yes, you do,” Steve said, trying not to laugh at how freaking adorable Bucky was. “I’ll even wash your hair,” he cajoled.

 

Bucky opened one eye, just a little. “With the peppermint shampoo?” he asked.

 

“It’s waiting by the tub,” he replied with a smile. “I even got you conditioner.”

 

Bucky appeared to think about it for a second or two, and then he gave a little shrug. “Okay,” he said, rolling onto his back and stretching carefully. His movements left his right side uncovered by the bedding, and Steve watched appreciatively as his muscles flexed and relaxed. When he looked up and saw Steve’s gaze traveling over his body, he asked teasingly, “See something you like, Daddy?”

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve responded, bending down to kiss him, “it’s so much more than ‘like.’” He slowly pushed the blanket off and away, exposing Bucky’s whole body. “You’re so beautiful that my heart aches.”

 

Bucky blushed then, bashfully, even as his grin stretched across his face. “You’re so good to me, Daddy,” he whispered.

 

Steve scooped him up, bridal-style, and turned to carry him into the bathroom. “Anything for my baby boy,” he answered, kissing his cheek. Once they were in the bathroom, Steve set Bucky carefully on his feet, keeping his hands on his hips to steady him. Steve stepped into the tub, helping Bucky in after, and they settled at the sloping end of the tub, Bucky between Steve’s legs and leaning back against his chest.

 

Bucky sighed loudly, going completely boneless in Steve’s arms. “Oh, my god, Stevie, you’ll be lucky if I ever leave this tub again.”

 

Steve chuckled, nuzzling the side of Bucky’s head. “Feel free to stay, I won’t complain.”

 

“Not even if I begin a torrid affair with your bathtub?” he teased.

 

“As long as I get to see you whenever I want, you will never hear a harsh word about it,” Steve replied, wrapping his arms around Bucky and squeezing.

 

“You’re the best, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, turning his head to seek out Steve’s lips with his own. They kissed for several minutes, just soft, languorous kisses, that left them both feeling warm and happy.

 

“Can I wash your hair?” Steve asked, brushing a few strands off Bucky’s cheek.

 

“Absolutely,” he smiled, sitting up.

 

Bucky purred like a cat as Steve washed and conditioned his hair, which Bucky then reciprocated, rinsing with the hand-held sprayer attached to the tub faucet. For the next ten minutes or so they washed each other, Steve carefully and gently getting his little boy completely clean. When they were done, Bucky turned over to lie on Steve’s chest, and there they stayed, arms wrapped around each other, speaking softly, relaxed and comfortable, until the water began to cool down. After getting out, Steve wrapped a towel around Bucky and patted him dry as he stood there, barely able to keep his eyes open. Once they were dry and their teeth were brushed—Bucky made a noise that sounded suspiciously like _“Aww”_ at the products Steve had left out for him—they hung up their towels.

 

“Do you want something to wear?” Steve asked as he led Bucky back into the bedroom. Bucky shook his head sleepily, and Steve smiled as he pulled the covers back and let Bucky slide in, following him between the sheets. After turning off the light, he settled against Bucky’s back, pulling him close to his chest. “Good night, sweetheart,” Steve said, kissing the back of Bucky’s neck.

 

“Good night, Daddy,” Bucky murmured, already half asleep.

 

Steve was pretty sure he’d never fallen asleep with such a big smile on his face before. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Daddy Steve. He is literally the bestest.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's following along with this story! You've all been so supportive and encouraging!
> 
> Certainly no driving times to worry about in this chapter--you're off the hook, Google Maps. XD


	10. My Head is Full of Magic, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Starting off the day with a little cotton-candy-flavored, tooth-rotting fluff, with some light smut on the side.
> 
> There's also a little drama, and a reminder that everything is not yet perfect in Bucky's world.

 

“Oh, my god, Stevie, I hate to break it to the bathtub, but I think I’m going to start an affair with your bed instead,” Bucky moaned the next morning as he snuggled deeply into Steve’s arms, cradled in soft, warm, cottony fluffiness.

 

“Buck, sweetheart, if you want to stay in my bed all day, I will have no complaints,” he smiled, nuzzling into the nape of Bucky’s neck and softly caressing his left arm. “As long as I can be in here with you, I’ll be the happiest man on Earth.”

 

“Sap,” Bucky giggled, wiggling backwards into Steve’s chest.

 

“How are you? Do you feel alright?” Steve asked quietly, briefly ghosting a hand over Bucky’s bottom to ensure he understood what Steve was referring to, before returning his attention to his arm.

 

“I feel great,” Bucky sighed, little tingles shooting up his spine. “A little tender, yeah, and I might be walking kinda funny for a couple of hours,” he chuckled, “but I’m so, so happy.”

 

“I’m very glad to hear it. I’m really happy, too,” Steve murmured, and Bucky could hear him smiling, could feel it against his skin, and it made him feel warm all over.

 

Then Bucky said, “Y’know, now that I think about it, the best part of the tub and the bed is the same thing.”

 

“And what’s that, baby?” Steve asked, kissing his way over to Bucky’s left shoulder.

 

“You’ve been in both of them with me at the time,” Bucky replied, turning his head to look over his shoulder and catch Steve’s eye.

 

“Who’s the sap now?” Steve grinned, kissing Bucky’s cheek before returning to his shoulder, at which point Bucky realized that Steve had been gently massaging his left shoulder and arm for several minutes, loosening up the stiff muscles.

 

Bucky lay still, his heart thumping hard in his chest, as Steve pressed warm kisses along the scar that ran over the top of his shoulder while his big, strong hand squeezed gently and lovingly along his bicep. “No one’s ever done this for me before,” he said quietly, his words barely audible, even in the quiet of the bedroom. “No one’s ever taken care of me like you do.”

 

“You deserve all of this and more,” Steve said, keeping his voice soft. “All I want is to make you feel good, make you happy.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, unable to prevent the high-pitched scratchiness in his voice as he tried to speak around the sudden lump in his throat.

 

“Yes, my sweet, beautiful boy? What do you need?” Steve asked, kissing underneath his ear.

 

“You,” he answered, closing his eyes as they prickled dangerously. “Just you.”

 

“You have me, sweetheart, for as long as you want me,” Steve said, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s torso and hugging him tight. Steve could hear the shakiness in Bucky’s breathing, and he knew what he wanted to say—but he also knew it was too soon for possibly life-altering declarations. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said instead, rubbing small circles over Bucky’s chest, “and I will never take you for granted.”

 

“Back atcha, big guy,” Bucky said, chuckling through his sniffles. “You’re so perfect that sometimes I’m afraid this is all a dream I’m going to wake up from.”

 

“I’m not perfect, not even close,” Steve disagreed softly, “but waking up with you is definitely like a dream. I could get addicted to this very easily.”

 

Bucky turned over in his arms so that he could wrap an arm around him and snuggle under his chin. “That’s it. You have completely ruined me for anything or anyone else ever again.”

 

“So now you’re mine forever?” Steve asked with a smile, looking down at Bucky’s face. He kissed his head and nuzzled against him. “Sounds good to me.”

 

“So damn smooth,” Bucky grinned, turning his head to kiss Steve’s giant pectoral muscle.

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, holding Bucky close, caressing big, lazy circles on his back. “You feel so good.”

 

“So do you,” Bucky murmured happily, his fingers trailing up and down Steve’s spine. After a minute or so, he felt movement along his thigh, and he giggled and said, “This _is_ making you happy, isn’t it?”

 

“I can’t help it,” Steve said, chuckling, his face buried in Bucky’s hair. “I think you’re happy about it, too.”

 

“Roll over,” Bucky said, laughingly pushing Steve’s shoulder. Once he was on his back, Bucky sat up and swung his leg over Steve’s thighs, straddling him. “Damn,” he said, looking over Steve’s body and trailing his fingers over his chiseled abs, “you are unbelievable.”

 

“What about you?” Steve asked, rubbing Bucky’s thighs, getting slightly distracted at the sight of their hardening shafts so close together. “So gorgeous, every single inch of you.” He shook his head in wonder. “I will _never_ get tired of looking at you.”

 

“You’re biased, remember?” Bucky said, blushing.

 

“I’m an artist,” Steve said, smiling. He traced his index finger along the defined line between Bucky’s abdominals and his obliques, making him twitch with sensitivity. “And not to brag or anything, but I also have perfect vision,” he said, smirking.

 

Bucky laughed and leaned forward, bracing his hands on Steve’s chest. They kissed slowly and easily, enjoying the luxury of an undemanding morning. When Bucky stretched out over Steve’s body, pressing their cocks together, they moaned, each of them arching into the other.

 

“Aren’t you sore?” Steve asked against Bucky’s lips, gripping his hips with both hands as Bucky rolled his pelvis down.

 

“Only part of me—my dick feels great,” he said, smiling, his jaw going slack as they slowly rubbed together. “Fuck, what am I saying? _Your_ dick feels great,” he joked, moaning at the intense sensation. Soon their pre-fluids were leaking, mixing with the sweat their bodies were generating, and the slide of their cocks together just felt so good that Bucky’s eyelids fluttered shut.

 

Steve could feel Bucky picking up speed, grinding harder and faster. “Can I?” he asked, his hands reaching down toward Bucky’s ass.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, breathless, “just be careful, okay?”

 

“’Course, baby,” Steve said, lovingly running his fingertips over the firm, round cheeks of Bucky’s backside. “You have such a sweet little ass,” he whispered.

 

Bucky giggled. “You’re tickling me,” he said, and then his eyes flew open when Steve swatted one of his cheeks, the _smack!_ loud and startling. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped, arching his back and grinding down hard.

 

“Aww, you like that, sweetheart?” Steve asked, grinning, biting his bottom lip as he rubbed his hand over the same spot on Bucky’s ass. “Like to be spanked a little, huh, baby boy?”

 

“ _Yes,_ Daddy,” he moaned, his eyes sliding shut again as he rocked against Steve’s hard shaft.

 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” Steve bit out. He brought his hand up to his mouth, spit on his fingers, and carefully started massaging Bucky’s hole, which was still a little swollen and puffy. When Bucky shouted, he froze, just resting his fingers there. “Is that okay, baby?”

 

“Yes, yes, holy shit,” he said in a rush, his breathing coming in short bursts. He reached down and started stroking his cock. “Fuck, Daddy, gonna come.”

 

“That’s it, baby, come for Daddy. Let me see it.” Steve spanked him again, pressing lightly against his tender hole, and Bucky completely lost it. His muscles locked up, and then he was coming, spurting hot and thick over Steve’s cock and stomach, gasping and moaning, his breaths ragged and broken.

 

Steve groaned. “You gorgeous, goddamn—oh, fuck, baby boy, I just can’t take it,” he gritted out, reaching for his own shaft and stroking, Bucky’s come making his grip slippery. “Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes on Bucky as he came down from his climax; panting heavily, all loose limbs, tousled hair, easy smiles and half-lidded eyes.

 

Bucky leaned down to kiss Steve as he stroked furiously. “Please, Daddy,” he whispered breathily, sounding sultry and satisfied. “Want you to come on me.”

 

Steve reached up with his free hand and curled his fingers into Bucky’s hair, holding him close for a bruising kiss as he fell over the edge. He tensed sharply, his back arching off the bed, as his shaft pulsed and shot all over his and Bucky’s chests. He moaned loudly, his head falling back, and Bucky latched onto the pulse point in his throat, sucking hard.

 

“Ah, fuck!” he cried, breathing heavily, holding Bucky to his throat as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him. “Oh, oh, oh god, baby,” he panted, feeling like all of his joints had turned to mush.

 

“Mmm, Daddy,” Bucky sighed, smiling from ear-to-ear, “I just wanna eat you up.” He slid down Steve’s body, licking at his hard, rosy pink nipples. When Steve’s breath hitched and his pelvis jerked up, Bucky giggled throatily and sprawled across Steve’s chest, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Not sure I can feel my legs,” he laughed, kissing his collarbone and cuddling into him.

 

“You,” Steve exhaled forcefully, “are absolutely incredible.”

 

“You make me feel incredible,” Bucky smiled, kissing along his throat and ending on his lips. “You also make me very messy,” he laughed, lifting up slightly to look at their chests. “We’re going to be stuck together soon.”

 

“Being stuck to you sounds fantastic,” Steve smiled, “but maybe we should take a shower.”

 

Bucky agreed, and they peeled apart in order to get out of bed and wander into the bathroom, where Steve opened the shower door and turned the water on.

 

Soon they were under the warm spray, lovingly washing each other’s hair again and scrubbing the other’s body. “That shampoo makes my head all tingly,” Bucky laughed as he rinsed the lather away.

 

“It is my goal in life to make you tingle from head to toe, sweetheart,” Steve smiled, pouring some conditioner into his palm and smoothing it over the ends of Bucky’s hair, detangling the soft tresses with his fingers.

 

“It’s good to have goals,” Bucky grinned, turning his head to give Steve a kiss. “Speaking of which, what are your plans for today?”

 

“Well, being Sunday, it’s Sam’s turn to host football,” Steve said. “But, if you don’t want to do that—“

 

“I don’t mind,” Bucky said. “I like football, and I like Sam. He’s your best friend, and I don’t want to mess up something you two have been doing for who-knows-how-long.”

 

“You’ll probably get to meet Maria today,” Steve said, turning Bucky in his arms so that he could rinse the conditioner from his hair. “She’s really nice, I’m sure you’ll like her.”

 

“If you like her, I know I will, too,” Bucky grinned, hugging Steve around the waist.

 

Steve lowered his head to kiss Bucky softly, smiling. “I know she’s going to like you,” he said.

 

“Of course she will,” Bucky shrugged, smiling easily. “I’m totally fucking lovable.”

 

Steve laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the hard surfaces of the shower. “You’re a total brat, is what you are,” he said, hugging Bucky close.

 

“But I’m lovable,” Bucky teased.

 

“Yes, you are, most definitely,” Steve agreed, and then he turned off the water.

 

***

 

They arrived at Sam’s house just after lunch, and Sam welcomed them both inside. He had obviously been expecting Bucky as well, which gave him all sorts of warm, fuzzy feelings. After kicking off their shoes and a quick tour of the apartment, which Steve had helped Sam fix up a few years earlier, they headed back out to the living room.

 

“Everyone at the SHIELD office was goin’ on and on about you on Friday,” Sam said to Bucky with a grin as they sat down on the comfortable furniture. He had the TV on for the first of the football games already, and had lots of snacks scattered over the coffee table.

 

“Oh, no,” Bucky moaned, blushing, as he remembered how worked up he’d been when he tried to exit the office several days earlier. Next to him, Steve snickered, obviously remembering as well. Bucky flicked his kneecap. “Quiet, you,” he said, trying not to laugh.

 

“What’s goin’ on?” Sam asked teasingly, giving them both sly eyes. “Did something happen between you two behind closed doors?”

 

“Not telling,” Steve said immediately, tucking Bucky under his arm and up against his side. “We tell you, you tell someone else, next thing you know, everyone’s trying to take this beautiful boy away from me.”

 

“What’s this I hear about beautiful boys?” a woman’s voice said. A very attractive brunette walked into the room, a big smile on her face. “I think I need to be here for this conversation.”

 

“Sorry, hon,” Sam said, getting to his feet, “the beautiful boy in question is already taken.” He leaned down for a kiss. “We _all_ are, as a matter of fact.”

 

“Well, _naturally_ I assumed they were talking about you, sweetie,” she said, clearly messing with him. Sam cackled in response.

 

He gestured toward where Bucky was sitting. “We were actually talking about the sweet-faced young man that Steve’s trying to fit into his pocket. Bucky,” Sam said, and both Steve and Bucky got to their feet, “this is my girlfriend, the always lovely Maria Hill. Maria, this is Bucky Barnes.”

 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Bucky said, extending his hand toward the woman. She shook it with a smile.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Bucky,” she said. “You really are as cute as everyone has been saying.” When Bucky blushed, she gasped. “Holy crap, he is just precious.”

 

“Told you,” Sam said, grinning.

 

Steve stepped over to kiss Maria on the cheek. “Good to see you, Maria,” he said.

 

“You, too, Steve. You look great,” she said, holding his face between her hands for a moment.

 

“I feel great,” Steve said, sitting again on the sofa. Bucky sat next to him, keeping his hands to himself, a little nervous about showing too much affection in front of Steve’s friends.

 

Maria, obviously, had no such hang-ups. Sam took a seat in an over-stuffed leather chair and Maria dropped right onto his lap. “Damn, woman!” Sam yelped, scooting her over to the side. “Warn a man first!”

 

Maria made a noise that sounded like _pshh_ and kissed Sam on the head. “You’re fine.”

 

“Well, yeah,” he laughed, “but I’m thinking you might want kids someday, so maybe take it easy on the equipment.”

 

Steve just laughed at them both and said to Bucky, “I’m going to grab a drink. Want one?”

 

“Um, yeah, okay,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand and letting the blond man pull him to his feet.

 

“You guys want anything?” Steve asked Sam and Maria, who paused briefly in their teasing to request a beer, then continued into the kitchen.

 

Sam’s kitchen was light and airy, with maple cabinets, white countertops, and steel appliances. It was not a large kitchen, so the light colors made it feel bigger. Once they were alone, Steve leaned against the counter and tugged Bucky between his legs. “You okay, baby?” he asked, looping his arms loosely around Bucky’s waist.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky said, leaning into Steve’s big, warm body. “I sometimes just get a little nervous around new people, not knowing how they’ll react.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about Maria,” Steve assured him. “She’s as open-minded as they come, and, as you can see, she doesn’t really stand on formality.” He kissed Bucky then, humming happily. “If you want to curl up in my lap and cuddle, she won’t say a word, other than maybe claiming that she’s going into cuteness overload.”

 

“Cuddling sounds wonderful, you shouldn’t tempt me,” Bucky said with a smile, sliding his hands up Steve’s chest to meet at the nape of his neck. They kissed slowly and deeply, Bucky’s fingers combing through Steve’s hair, and Steve’s hands sliding up the back of Bucky’s shirt.

 

After a minute or so, Sam’s voice yelled from the other room. “Are those drinks coming out here? Or do we have to walk into the kitchen and interrupt whatever you two are doing in there?”

 

Steve’s head fell back with a groan. “Drinks coming right up, your highness!”

 

Bucky started laughing, his cheeks bright red. He stepped back, out of Steve’s arms, and turned to the refrigerator. “In here?” he asked.

 

“Yup,” Steve chuckled, adjusting the front of his pants.

 

Bucky opened the fridge and took out two of what he recognized as Steve’s favorite beer. Steve took those and opened them, telling Bucky which others to get for Sam and Maria, then opening those as well. They carried them out to the living room, where Sam and Maria gave them both wide, cheesy grins.

 

They thanked him loudly for the drinks, to which Steve growled, “Shaddup,” while he tried to keep a straight face as he handed them their opened bottles. Then he and Bucky sat down on the sofa again, with Bucky tucked snugly into Steve’s side, just as the first game started.

 

As halftime of the Jets-Browns game approached, Steve said, “I don’t know why you two are giving me a hard time about not rooting for either New York football team. They don’t even play in New York. They both play in Jersey.”

 

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Sam argued, exasperated. “Bucky agrees with me, right?”

 

“Mostly,” Bucky laughed. “I’m from Indiana, but I don’t root for the Colts.”

 

“Which is your favorite team?” Maria asked, tossing back a handful of popcorn.

 

Bucky mumbled something, smiling and blushing, but apparently it was loud enough for Steve to hear, because he burst out laughing. “What? What did you say?” Maria asked.

 

“I said, I root for the team with the cutest quarterback,” Bucky admitted, his head falling back in embarrassment. Maria cheered and gave him a long-distance high-five.

 

“Ah, a true fan of the game,” Sam laughed, his thumb caressing Maria’s knee where it crossed over his lap.

 

“I am!” Bucky protested, giggling as Steve squirmed around so that Bucky was between his legs and leaning back against his chest. “I used to root for the Jets when they had Mark Sanchez—“ Steve snorted and hugged him, “but now I’m looking at the Patriots because they have Tom Brady _and_ Jimmy Garoppolo.”

 

“I hear Garoppolo might get traded,” Maria said, and Bucky’s eyes widened.

 

“Really?” he asked. “To who?”

 

“San Francisco,” she said, and everyone groaned. “Yeah, they’re awful.”

 

“They’ve had some good-looking QBs, though,” Steve admitted.

 

“I just can’t. Nope,” Sam said, shaking his head and laughing. “Next.”

 

Maria snorted and kissed the side of his head. “Fine, ya big baby. So, Bucky, Sam tells me that you and Steve met at your work. It’s a café?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

 

“No—well, there’s a café at the front, but I don’t work in there. I manage a bookstore over in the Heights,” Bucky said, taking a handful of pretzels.

 

Maria suddenly sat straight up, looking intently at Bucky. “Brooklyn Heights Books?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Bucky nodded, smiling. “You know it?”

 

“Is Nick Fury your boss?” she asked, and the tone of her voice made Bucky frown a little.

 

“Um, yeah,” he said, a little puzzled by the serious sound of her question. “He made me manager a few months back.”

 

“You’re James Barnes,” she said, and it definitely wasn’t a question.

 

Steve held Bucky a little tighter. “What’s going on, Maria?” he asked, confused.

 

“Bucky, did Steve tell you that I’m NYPD?” Maria asked, ignoring Steve’s question.

 

“Um, yeah, he mentioned it a few weeks ago, why?” he replied, not feeling good about where this was going.

 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Maria said, getting to her feet. Sam was looking at everyone with a puzzled expression.

 

“About what?” Bucky asked, his heart starting to pound. “What’s the matter? Is Nick okay?”

 

“Nick’s fine,” Maria said. “I just need to tell you something, and I thought you might want some privacy.”

 

“Anything you need to tell me, you can tell me here,” Bucky said, holding Steve’s hand tightly. “I don’t have any secrets from Steve.”

 

Sam picked up the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. He sat up, a worried look on his face.

 

Maria sighed, but she sat down next to Sam again. “Bucky,” she started, “I’m a Detective for the NYPD, 84th Precinct, specifically DUMBO and Brooklyn Heights. Nick Fury called us a couple of weeks ago to file a report about something that happened involving you.”

 

Bucky stared at her, wide-eyed. “He called about Brock, didn’t he?”

 

“He did,” Maria nodded. “He wanted us to start a file, because he’s convinced that Brock Rumlow is stalking you and he’s worried for you. Were you aware that Rumlow has a police record?”

 

“No,” Bucky said, swallowing hard.

 

“Grand larceny as well as assault and battery,” Maria said. “He also has an Other Than Honorable Discharge from the Marines—apparently he seriously injured a member of his own unit in a drunken fight. Nick has reported everything that he knows about so far. We have a report from Vincent Colletta as well, that Rumlow assaulted you.”

 

Bucky’s head dropped forward. “Fuck,” he whispered, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this.”

 

“Sweetheart,” Steve said, holding him close, “Nick is worried about you. If he’s taken this step, it’s already a big deal.”

 

“But it’s only going to make Brock angry!” Bucky exclaimed. “If I just ignore him, he’ll get bored, and—“

 

“Honey,” Steve said firmly. “You left him months ago, and he’s still harassing you. He’s not going to leave you alone until legal steps are taken.”

 

“And Rumlow hasn’t been notified of anything yet,” Maria said. “We would need you to file an assault report against him—“

 

“No. No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. He got to his feet and walked around the table. “I can’t do that. It’s only going to make it worse.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve said, following Bucky into the kitchen, where he found the younger man standing with his arms braced on the counter, breathing shakily and clearly upset. He approached him slowly. “Bucky,” he said again, putting his hand gently between Bucky’s shoulder blades, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know that, right?”

 

“Yeah, well, it kind of feels like Nick’s taken that choice away from me,” Bucky said gruffly.

 

“C’mere, baby,” he said softly, turning Bucky around and taking him in his arms. To Steve’s relief, Bucky tucked himself against Steve’s chest, hiding his face against his throat, allowing Steve to comfort him. “Right now, nothing is actively happening. It’s just a record of what he’s done, a way for the police to establish a pattern of behavior, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, sounding small and a little scared.

 

Steve rubbed his back, soothing him. “Hopefully, nothing else will happen, and he’ll leave you alone. But if he does try to bother you again, the police will be ready.” Bucky nodded against his shoulder. “What do you want to do, baby? Do you want to go home?” Steve asked.

 

“No,” Bucky said quietly, shaking his head. “Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen? Watch the rest of the game?”

 

“Can I hold you while we watch? ‘Cause I really feel like I need to cuddle you for a couple of hours,” Steve said, stroking Bucky’s hair.

 

“That sounds okay,” Bucky said, and Steve would swear he could hear a little bit of a smile.

 

“Alright, then,” Steve said, kissing the top of Bucky’s head.

 

After a trip to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, Bucky rejoined Steve on the sofa, crawling immediately into his lap and laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve wrapped his arms around him, snuggling him close.

 

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Bucky,” Maria said quietly from her position on Sam’s lap, where he was holding her close as well. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, and his voice sounded a little stronger, less strained. “It’s better that I know, actually. I just wish Nick had told me himself.”

 

“Can I just ask—“ and Steve shot her a bit of a warning look, which she understood, “do you have somewhere safe to go?”

 

Bucky sighed, nodding. “I moved out of the apartment where I was living when I was dating him. I’m staying with friends, he doesn’t know them.”

 

“Okay, good,” Maria said, sounding relieved, and she dropped the subject.

 

The rest of the afternoon passed a little quieter, a little more introspectively. Bucky actually dozed off against Steve’s chest for a few minutes between quarters, and Steve stretched out across the sofa with Bucky sprawled over him like a blanket. He could hear the others whispering, but he was comfortable and warm, wrapped up snuggly in Steve’s arms, and didn’t feel like opening his eyes and talking.

 

“He seems very sweet,” Maria said quietly. “I like him.”

 

“I’m absolutely crazy about him,” Steve responded quietly, and the little rumbly vibrations in his chest made Bucky nuzzle against him, sighing sleepily.

 

“Oh, my god, he’s so freaking cute I could die,” Sam said. “He’s like a soft little baby panda or something. Just wanna hug him.”

 

Steve chuckled softly, stroking Bucky’s hair as his boy cuddled. “He’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed.

 

After Bucky woke up, and the games ended, he and Steve were putting their shoes on and getting ready to leave. Maria came up to him and handed him a card. “If you ever need help, or need to talk, or anything,” she said earnestly, “please call.”

 

Bucky looked at the card. It had her email, work phone number, home phone number, and personal mobile number. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, putting the card in his wallet.

 

Maria looked at him for a moment longer, then hugged him. “I’ve never seen Steve happier than I have today,” she said. “You’re obviously really important to him, so that means you’re important to all of us. Take care, okay?”

 

“I will,” he said, hugging her in return.

 

***

 

Steve took Bucky home that evening, and they arranged for Bucky to spend the night on Wednesday night, as he had Thursday off. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience for you,” Bucky said, worried about Steve getting to work on Thursday morning.

 

“Nothing about spending time with you is inconvenient,” Steve said, holding Bucky’s hand. “Here, let me see your phone.”

 

Bucky handed the well-used device over, confused. “You don’t have a car,” Steve said, opening the app store and searching for what he wanted, “and if I can, I will be happy to take you anywhere you need or want to go. But,” he said, installing and opening the app he found, “I don’t want to worry about you not having a ride somewhere, or having to rush to get Clint his car back or trying to get a cab or wait for a train.” Steve pulled out his phone and opened up a similar app, copying down an account number.

 

“So, I’ve put the Uber app on your phone, and I’ve added you to my account,” Steve said, handing Bucky his phone back. “Please don’t hesitate to use it if you need a ride somewhere. I’ve also added my number to your Find Friends, so you’ll always know where I am, okay?”

 

“Steve,” Bucky said, tilting his head and looking at him through his lashes, “this is really very nice of you, but I think you’re worrying over nothing.”

 

“It will make me feel better if I know you always have a way to get to me if you need to,” Steve said softly. “Please, Buck?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky smiled, leaning over to kiss him. “You are just the sweetest.”

 

“Anything for you, baby.”

 

***

 

Bucky went to work Monday morning, getting a ride with Clint, as he usually did. When Bucky saw Nick, the first thing he said was, “You and I are having a talk. Right now, Nick. Let’s go.”

 

They sat in the office, sometimes talking, sometimes yelling, Bucky occasionally pacing and throwing his hands in the air, while Nick sat calmly, explaining his position.

 

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Buck,” Nick said. “This guy is seriously bad news, and I want to make sure that he doesn’t get a chance to hurt you.”

 

“So why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, exasperated.

 

“Maybe because I knew you’d take it so well?” Nick said, and even Bucky had to admit he might have a point there. “You didn’t tell me that he was bothering you, or that he followed you on your break _and hurt you_. That isn’t okay, Buck. If he shows up here with a delivery, I want you to get someone else to deal with him. Either me, or Pete, or even Clint, if he’s here. All they need to do is sign for the delivery, nothing else.”

 

“Nick,” Bucky sighed, “you’re asking me to push my problems onto other people. That’s not right.”

 

“No, I’m saying that I don’t want Rumlow to have any access to you while you’re here. I won’t allow him to harass you, not if I have anything to say about it,” Nick replied.

 

“And then what?” Bucky asked sadly. “I don’t leave the store alone, ever?”

 

“How about we re-arrange your schedule a bit? Make sure you always have a ride in, always have a ride out,” Nick suggested. “Maybe, when he figures out that you’re not unprotected, he’ll take his bullshit elsewhere.”

 

“And I inconvenience everyone who works here in the process,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

 

“Your safety is never an inconvenience,” Nick said softly. “We care about you, Buck.” When Bucky laughed softly, Nick asked, “Why is that funny?”

 

“It’s not that,” Bucky said, the smile creeping across his face. “It just sounds like something Steve said.”

 

“I’m liking this Steve guy more every time I hear about him,” Nick said, sitting back in his chair. “When do I get to meet him?”

 

“Soon, I’m sure,” Bucky said, blushing a little.

 

The rest of Monday and Tuesday went along as it always did; however, there was the new excitement of knowing that he’d be spending Wednesday night at Steve’s place. “I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock at the bookstore, okay?” Steve asked when they spoke on Tuesday night.

 

“You’re sure that’s not too late?” Bucky asked, still worried about messing up Steve’s routine.

 

“Absolutely not,” Steve said emphatically. “I might get there a little early, but that’s just because I can’t wait to see you.”

 

“I can’t wait, either,” Bucky smiled.

 

He brought his backpack to work with him, gym clothes for the next day inside, figuring Steve could drop him off there, rather than take him all the way to his house. He went in to the bookstore in the early afternoon, seeing that a few deliveries had already come in—none from H.O.H., however, which meant they would be coming in later.

 

Bucky found Pete out on the floor and pulled him into the break room to give him a heads-up. “If Brock shows up, I’m not allowed to open the door for him,” Bucky said quietly, his arms folded and looking at the floor. “Nick is insisting that someone else sign for any deliveries he makes.”

 

“Consider it done, _amigo,_ ” Pete said, all joking aside. “I’ll stay on the first floor until he’s been and gone, okay?”

 

“Thanks, Pete,” Bucky said, and they returned to work.

 

A couple of hours later, Bucky was in the storage room, opening boxes and inventorying shipments, when there was a buzz at the delivery door. He jumped, startled by the sound, then walked slowly over to the door and peered through the peephole. Sure enough, on the other side was Brock, looking as smug and self-satisfied as ever.

 

Bucky turned and walked out of the storage room, through the break room, and into the store, breathing shallowly. He saw Pete at the register counter and waved at him. Pete nodded sharply, turned to Mora and whispered something to her, before walking around and meeting Bucky by the break room door.

 

“He here?” Pete asked, taking in Bucky’s pale expression. When Bucky nodded, Pete said, “I got this, don’t worry about it.” Then he turned and went inside.

 

Bucky heard Nick ask from the office, “Everything okay?”

 

Pete replied, “Yup, just need to deal with some trash.”

 

Bucky huffed a laugh. Leave it to Pete to make him smile even when he felt like throwing up.

 

Bucky slipped inside the break room door, shutting it behind him, just as he heard the delivery door open and Brock’s voice say abruptly, “Hey. Where’s James?”

 

“None of your business, Rumlow,” Pete said, and Bucky was pretty sure he’d never heard Pete sound so angry before. “You’re here to deliver boxes, nothing else. So unload the boxes. I’m signing for them.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Brock said, and the sneer came through loud and clear. “I’m not leaving without seeing James.”

 

“Actually,” Nick said loudly, “you are.” Bucky heard him take a couple of steps. “You’re not welcome here, Rumlow. Unload the boxes and go. Take one step beyond this room, and I’ll have you charged with trespassing.”

 

Everything was quiet for a few seconds, then Brock said, “You can’t hide him forever.”

 

“Stay away from him, Rumlow,” Nick said quietly, and Bucky knew that he never, _ever,_ wanted to hear that voice directed at him. “You won’t get another warning.”

 

Finally Bucky heard boxes being unloaded, _loudly,_ as if Brock was throwing them down; which, if Bucky thought about it, he probably was. Bucky then left the break room and walked over to the register counter to help Mora get through a short line of customers. Bucky put on a happy and cheerful face, like he always did, as most of the customers were regulars that he’d gotten to know over the years. When they were done, Mora asked him quietly, “Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Bucky said, and a few minutes later, Pete came walking out and gave Bucky a nod.

 

“All good, Buck-a-doodle,” Pete said, coming around the counter with an armful of books.

 

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said, sighing in relief.

 

“Any time,” Pete said. “Be careful, okay?”

 

“I will,” Bucky replied, nodding.

 

“I hear Stevie’s coming by later,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. “You two are, uhh…” he trailed off suggestively. Mora shook her head, mumbling something that sounded like, “Nosy.”

 

“We are definitely ‘uhh,’” Bucky laughed, smacking Pete’s arm. “I’m staying at his place tonight.”

 

“That is awesome,” Pete sighed, looking so happy for his friend. “I’m going to be your best man, right?”

 

“Little premature there, buddy,” Bucky said, snorting.

 

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Pete said, grinning ear-to-ear.

 

“Why?” Bucky asked, confused, and when Pete merely pointed over Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky turned to see the gorgeous blond himself, walking toward him. “Stevie!” Bucky said, smiling widely. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Sam was crying about missing the pastries last week,” Steve said, stopping at the counter and leaning his elbows on it, “and I will take every opportunity I can to see the most beautiful boy in the whole world.”

 

“Aww,” Pete and Mora both sighed.

 

“Oh, my god, you guys,” Bucky laughed, blushing hard. He came around the counter into Steve’s waiting arms and hugged him. “You know I’m seeing you tonight, right?”

 

“Like I said, _every_ opportunity,” Steve repeated, leaning down to kiss him.

 

“Oh. Oh god. So sweet. Gonna cry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” Pete stammered, blinking hard and fanning himself.

 

Steve chuckled, giving Bucky another squeeze before releasing him. “I also wanted to make sure you got dinner since you’re working late.”

 

“Did Nick call you or something?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

 

“No,” Steve said, confused. “Should he have?”

 

“Ugh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come with me,” he continued, taking Steve’s hand and pulling him toward the office.

 

“Where are you taking me?” Steve asked playfully.

 

“It’s time for two of my bodyguards to meet,” Bucky said.

 

***

 

“Steve, I would like you to meet Nick Fury, my boss. Nick, this is my boyfriend, Steve Rogers,” Bucky said, after he pulled Steve into the office and shut the door behind them.

 

“Mr. Fury, it’s good to see you again,” Steve said, walking over to shake Nick’s hand. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Steve Rogers,” Nick said, looking at him with a smile of recognition. “Local authors conference, right?”

 

“That’s right,” Steve said, smiling. “I was just getting my little publishing house set up back then. You were very kind.”

 

“How’s that going these days?” Nick asked, more friendly than Bucky had ever seen him.

 

“Seriously?” Bucky looked at him skeptically.

 

“What?” Nick asked, confused.

 

“SHIELD Publishing,” Bucky said. “Steven G. Rogers. He’s only my favorite graphic novel author and artist, Nick.”

 

“Oh, that’s you?” Nick asked Steve, surprised.

 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Steve said, smiling and blushing a little.

 

“Well, then, I guess I really _don’t_ have to worry about you two having enough to talk about,” Nick said, relaxing in his chair with a grin.

 

“Nick!” Bucky shouted, his cheeks reddening.

 

“Not at all,” Steve said, laughing. “I love talking to Bucky. He’s brilliant and funny and helps me see things in new and interesting ways.”

 

“And I explain all the new, cool things to him that he doesn’t understand,” Bucky said, laughing. He whispered loudly to Nick, “He’s old.”

 

“I’m only thirty-three, I’m not that old,” Steve protested, poking Bucky in the side, making him yelp. “Maybe I should shave,” he pondered out loud, running his hand over his beard. “I’d probably look younger than you.”

 

“No!” Bucky gasped. “No shaving!”

 

“Then be nice, ya little brat,” Steve teased, putting an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss to the side of his head.

 

“So what brings you here today?” Nick asked, his head cocked to the side, smiling easily.

 

“Bucky’s closing tonight, so I wanted to make sure he got dinner before it gets too late,” Steve said, unconsciously tucking Bucky under his chin.

 

“I’m going to call Vinnie, order my usual, pick it up and bring it back here. Do you want anything?” Bucky asked Steve and Nick.

 

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve said, and then Bucky looked at Nick.

 

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Nick said, rubbing his stomach. “I need to be careful with what I eat. I’m not getting around as quick as I used to.”

 

Steve and Nick talked briefly while Bucky was on the phone with the deli owner. “I’m going with you,” Steve said after Bucky ended the phone call.

 

“You don’t need to do that, Stevie,” Bucky said, putting his phone in his pocket.

 

“Yes, I do,” Steve said. “Please don’t argue with me about this.”

 

“Buck,” Nick said, his voice serious, “I’d rather you not go alone, not when we know that Rumlow’s in the area.”

 

“What?” Steve said, looking sharply at Bucky. “He was here?”

 

“He made the delivery today,” Bucky sighed, noticing how Steve’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t see him or talk to him; Pete and Nick took care of it.”

 

“Then I’m definitely going with you,” Steve said. “And I will be here every night you close to make sure you’re safe.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky protested, but he was cut off.

 

“Don’t,” Steve said gently, shaking his head. “Your safety is the most important thing, Bucky. I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky relented, giving him a little smile. “Let’s go, then. Are you going to tell Sam?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I’ll give him my coffee order and have him get a box of pastries for the office. It’ll be ready to go by the time we’re back.”

 

After saying goodbye to Nick and speaking to Sam, Steve and Bucky walked down the street to the Italian deli. “Be warned,” Bucky said wryly, “Vinnie will probably be worse than Nick.”

 

“I’m not worried,” Steve smiled, holding Bucky close to his side. “They care about you, so they’re all good people.”

 

“They just have an interesting way of showing it sometimes,” Bucky laughed as they arrived at Colletta’s Deli.

 

“Hey! Jamie!” a big, booming voice shouted from behind the counter.

 

“Jamie?” Steve said quietly, grinning widely.

 

“Only Mister Colletta gets to call me that,” Bucky warned, his eyes narrowed playfully, as the man himself came out to see them.

 

“Jamie, how are ya?” Vinnie said, handing a wrapped package of sliced meat to another customer. “Here ya go, Gwen. Have a good evening.”

 

“Thanks, Vinnie. See you this weekend,” the woman said, nodding to Bucky and Steve as she left.

 

“Hey, Vinnie,” Bucky said, right before he was engulfed in a big bear hug.

 

“So, who’s this, Jamie? Didja finally bring your new guy around to meet me?” Vinnie said, looking at Steve with a shrewd eye.

 

“Steve, this is Vinnie Colletta, owner of the best deli in all of New York. Vinnie, this is Steve Rogers, author, artist, and my ridiculously wonderful boyfriend,” Bucky said, turning to hug Steve around the waist.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mister Colletta,” Steve said politely, extending his hand.

 

“You treatin’ Jamie good?” he asked, shaking Steve’s hand.

 

“I hope so,” Steve said, blushing.

 

“Yes, he is,” Bucky said emphatically. “I swear, Vinnie, Stevie has been really, really nice to me.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Vinnie said with a big smile, gently patting Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on, kiddo, I got your order ready to go.” He walked behind the counter and pulled out a big bag. He set it down with two to-go cups. “Here ya go.”

 

Steve walked up to the counter and swiped his credit card through the machine before Bucky could even take out his wallet. “Stevie, you don’t need to pay for my dinner,” Bucky said.

 

“I want to,” Steve responded, leaning down to kiss him. “I like taking care of you.” As he signed the receipt, he said, “Can you get some straws and napkins, please, baby?”

 

“Sure,” Bucky said, walking over to the area with condiments and paper goods. When he’d collected everything, he turned to see the two men speaking quietly, Vinnie writing something down and nodding. When he returned to Steve’s side, Vinnie was filing a card away inside his old-fashioned Rolodex that he used to keep track of his customer’s accounts. “All set?” he asked.

 

“I think so,” Steve said, looking at Vinnie questioningly. When the older man smiled and nodded, Steve said, “Mister Colletta, Bucky told me what you did for him a few weeks ago. Thank you for watching out for him.”

 

Bucky blushed and nudged Steve’s shoulder with his head, smiling when Vinnie said, “Jamie’s a good kid. I think of him like family—and nobody messes with my family.” He raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Got that, Stevie?”

 

Steve grinned widely. “I got it, Mister Colletta.” He put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and kissed the side of Bucky’s head.

 

“I like you, Stevie. You can call me Vinnie,” he said. “Alright, you two, get outta here and have a nice night.”

 

“Thanks, Vinnie,” Bucky said, picking up the two cups while Steve picked up the bag with their food inside. “We’ll see you later.”

 

“Good night,” Steve said, and the two left the deli and walked back to the bookstore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm a San Francisco 49ers fan. Yes, I know they've been awful since Harbaugh left. Garoppolo was a STEAL. I've got a good feeling about this upcoming season--if our players can stop getting arrested. ::eye roll::
> 
> And, also, Rumlow is an asshole. If you've ever seen the inside of an abusive relationship, you'll understand where Bucky is coming from.
> 
> Thank yous for everyone for the amazing comments! Seriously, when everything feels like it's going to hell, just knowing that this ridiculously sweet, sappy story is making a few people smile makes all the difference. Big hugs to you all!! <3
> 
> Next chapter: There Will Be Drama


	11. I Can't Share This With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! 8,000+ words of smut, feels, and DRRRAAAAAMMAAAAA!! (Jazz hands optional)
> 
> Jumping right into the smut and extra-feely feels. Yay! :D
> 
> Nasty people are back. In a big way. Boo. :(
> 
> But because of that, someone we love shows up. So...yay? :/
> 
> I am putting a warning on this chapter. The guy we all love to hate gives us a really big reason to keep hating him. An 'assault with intent' will occur. It is not long or drawn-out, but it is unpleasant.
> 
> Despite the seriousness, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

 

Bucky slowly lowered himself onto Steve’s cock, breathing shallowly as he impaled himself on the thick staff. “Daddy,” he whimpered, bracing his arms on Steve’s chest, shivering as goose bumps raced all over his body.

 

“Easy, baby boy,” Steve whispered tightly, caressing his hips and thighs. “It’s okay if it’s too much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

 

“Wanna ride you,” Bucky moaned, lifting up slightly and then sliding back down, just a bit further than before.

 

“You will,” Steve said, his voice sounding a bit ragged. “Doesn’t have to be today. We have lots of time, sweetheart.”

 

The two men had established something of a routine since they had started sleeping together. Bucky closed the bookstore on Wednesday and Saturday nights; Steve would come by the bookstore to either bring him dinner or walk with him somewhere, and then Bucky would stay the night at Steve’s place, since he had the following day off. When he opened at work, he always came in with Clint, and left with either Clint or Steve at the end of the day. Steve also had the habit of stopping in with Sam at some point during the week, getting pastries for the office.

 

This ensured that Bucky was never alone when he came in to work in the morning or when he left in the evening, or even when he ran errands for the store; and while he appreciated what everyone was doing for him, to make sure he was safe, he was certain that he was becoming a burden on the people he cared about—especially Steve. He enjoyed every moment they spent together, looked forward to the nights they shared, and his heart raced every time Steve came to see him. He couldn’t help but worry, though, that eventually Steve would begin to see him as fragile, or too high-maintenance, and that he would tire of him.

 

They had made love twice more in the two-and-a-half weeks since the first time, Steve always making sure that Bucky was well prepped and that they took it very slowly. Other than being a little bit tender afterward, which Bucky thought would probably resolve itself the more often they had sex, he hadn’t had any residual issues. Tonight, though, Bucky needed something rougher, harder; he had attacked Steve the moment they had closed the door behind them, clothes haphazardly tossed through the living room and hallway before even getting to Steve’s room.

 

After hurrying Steve through his usual prep, Bucky himself had rolled the condom onto Steve’s shaft, pushed him onto his back, and then straddled him. He was definitely feeling a little reckless as he raised and lowered himself on Steve’s dick, faster than he probably should have. Bucky loved that Steve was so gentle with him, that he was so careful not to hurt him and that he checked in every few minutes to make sure Bucky was okay, but now Bucky wanted to drive him crazy, wanted to feel him lose a little bit of that self-control.

 

After several minutes, when he was finally seated fully on Steve’s cock, his hole stretched to burning, he groaned. “Oh, _fuck,_ Daddy,” Bucky said breathily, his head falling back as pleasure shot up his spine, making his eyelids flutter. “You feel so good, so big.”

 

Steve held himself still, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, trying to regulate his breathing as he looked up at Bucky. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, running his hands over Bucky’s chest, shoulders, and arms. “Can’t believe how gorgeous my little boy is.”

 

Bucky smiled shyly, his cheeks turning the tiniest bit pink, which Steve thought was unbelievably adorable, considering their current position. He lightly pinched Bucky’s nipples, feeling his muscles clench up as he gasped. “ _Jesus,_ sweetheart,” Steve moaned, “you’re so tight around me, so hot. Wanna pound that sweet little ass of yours.”

 

Bucky rolled his hips, causing both men to inhale sharply. “Want you to pound my ass, too, Daddy,” he said, smiling dreamily, rolling his hips again and again. His fingers curled into Steve’s pecs and he moaned, the sound going straight to Steve’s dick.

 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Steve gritted out through clenched teeth. He grabbed Bucky’s ass with both hands, squeezing and kneading the firm, round globes as his boy rolled his pelvis. “You feel so good on my cock.”

 

“D’you like it, Daddy?” Bucky asked, sitting up and putting his hands behind him, grabbing Steve’s heavily muscled thighs. He lifted himself up and dropped quickly, exhaling hard. When Steve shouted, his head thrown back, Bucky did it again. “Ah!” he cried, the angle driving Steve’s dick right into his prostate and sending a lightning bolt up his spine.

 

“There you go, baby,” Steve groaned jaggedly. “Use my cock, make yourself come.”

 

“Oh, oh yeah, oh god,” Bucky keened, gyrating over Steve, driving himself insane with the constant stimulation. “Wanna feel this for days, want it so bad,” he said, moaning with every panting breath.

 

Steve was barely holding himself in check. Bucky was so fucking beautiful, chasing his pleasure; his cock was so hard, the head red and weeping onto Steve’s stomach, bobbing as Bucky moved up and down. “What can I do, baby boy?” Steve asked roughly. “What do you need?”

 

“Fuck me hard, Daddy, please,” Bucky whimpered, biting his lip.

 

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart, so pretty when you beg,” Steve said, moving his legs to plant his heels on the bed. “Lift up a bit, baby,” he said, taking hold of Bucky’s hips.

 

Bucky leaned forward again, his hands braced on Steve’s shoulders. Steve pushed up slowly at first, making sure the angle was right, and as soon as Bucky gasped at the drag of Steve’s cock over his sensitive gland, he asked, breathlessly, “Fast or slow, darlin’?”

 

“Faster, Daddy, faster,” Bucky cried, trying to push back and getting frustrated that Steve wouldn’t let him move.

 

“Hold on to me,” Steve said, and then he was plowing into Bucky from underneath, growling as fingernails bit into his skin.

 

“Oh! Oh, god!” Bucky shouted, his back arching as he saw stars.

 

Steve kept up a steady stream of praise and filth, rambling as he watched Bucky fall apart. “Sweet little boy, so good for your Daddy, so perfect, love to fuck you,” he whispered, pulling Bucky down to kiss him, all tongue and lips and teeth, thrusting into him.

 

“Harder, Daddy, make me come,” Bucky cried, slamming himself down on to Steve’s shaft.

 

Steve spit on his hand and started stroking Bucky’s cock, “Come all over me, baby boy,” he growled, swatting Bucky’s ass with his other hand. Bucky shouted and clenched down. “Gonna fuck you right through it, gonna come in you.”

 

“Oh, fuck! Yes, Daddy!” Bucky gasped, his whole body jerking as Steve continued to pound him. A high, keening wail tore from his throat and then he was coming, spurting milky white strands over Steve’s chest and stomach.

 

“So fucking gorgeous,” Steve said, watching Bucky’s jaw go slack and his eyes slide shut. When Bucky was finished, Steve let go of his dick and pulled Bucky down so that their chests were pressed together. “Gonna come so hard, fill you up.”

 

Bucky made a humming sound that Steve felt more than heard. Steve held him close, breathing heavily as he pushed hard and fast into Bucky’s spasming hole. Just as Steve whispered gutturally, “Fuck, I’m so close,” he felt soft, warm kisses on his throat, followed by a hard bite to the joint of his neck and shoulder. “Oh! Oh, _Bucky,_ oh god!” he cried hoarsely, grinding hard against Bucky’s ass. He pushed Bucky’s pelvis down while still thrusting up, trying to get as deep as possible inside his boy. His abdominal muscles contracted hard when his orgasm hit him, and he groaned loudly as his breath was punched out of him.

 

“ _Unh, unh, unh,_ ” he moaned, trying to drag air into his lungs, but even then, black spots swirled before his eyes. “Holy shit,” he murmured, gasping.

 

Eventually his muscles stopped jerking and twitching, and he lay flat on the bed, completely spent. Bucky was sprawled over him, and Steve relaxed under his warm and heavy weight. He felt his cock softening, so he tiredly reached over to a box of tissues, snagged one, then let himself slide free of Bucky’s body.

 

Bucky whined, squirming at the sensation, but Steve shushed him quietly and kissed his forehead, reaching down with the tissue to slide the condom off his shaft. It wasn’t quite mess-free, but he wiped up what dripped, and then threw the whole thing into the bedside wastebasket, all while holding Bucky close with one arm.

 

They lay there for several minutes, cuddling sleepily, Steve smiling as Bucky nuzzled into the side of his neck. “Hey, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, “we should probably clean up.”

 

Bucky made a disgruntled noise, clearly far too comfortable to worry about the fluids drying on their bodies; eventually, however, he sighed and picked his head up to look at Steve, a dreamily blissed-out smile on his face. Leaning his forearms on Steve’s chest, he placed soft, sweet kisses on the blond’s red, bite-swollen lips.

 

Bucky adored that he could lean all of his not-unsubstantial weight on his boyfriend’s chest and that he took it all without a word of complaint; on the contrary, Steve welcomed it, invited it, practically begged for it. It made Bucky feel…well, kind of small, honestly. Steve was considerably larger than he was, after all. But it was more than that, though. He made Bucky feel cared for, protected…loved.

 

As soon as the thought went through Bucky’s mind, he stopped breathing, his mouth dropped open and his eyes grew large. He stared at Steve, unseeing, as his heart began thundering in his chest.

 

“Sweetheart?” Steve asked, a concerned look on his face at Bucky’s near-to-panicking expression. “Are you okay?”

 

“Um, yeah,” Bucky said quickly, dropping his head down and tucking it into Steve’s shoulder. Steve automatically wrapped his arms around him and held him close, mindless of the mess all over the both of them.

 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked softly after a few moments, rubbing his back slowly. “Seems like you had a little bit of a freak-out there.”

 

“Really?” Bucky laughed, and it came out sounding rather high-pitched and squeaky. “Shit, I’m not going to be able to hide anything from you, am I?”

 

Steve just squeezed him a little tighter and kissed his forehead. “The thing is, Buck, you don’t have to. Anything you’re thinking—if you’re worried, or scared, or freaked out—you can tell me. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or anxious, or just not ready for something, _you can tell me_. I won’t ever judge you or get angry with you. Even if you just want to be held or cuddled because you can’t verbalize something, I’m happy to hold you for as long as you want. All I ask is that you’re honest with me; that you tell me when you’re not ready for something, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed. I can handle anything, as long as you’re being honest.”

 

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky sniffled, a tear dropping onto Steve’s warm skin. Without a word, Steve reached for the nightstand and picked up the box of tissues, setting them down on the bed. Bucky laughed, grabbing one to dry his eyes. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I’ll try to get this out, but I need you to hug me while I say this.”

 

Steve reached down for the sheets, which had been pushed to his knees, pulling them up over Bucky to keep him warm. Then he wrapped Bucky up in his arms, holding him close and snug, cradling Bucky’s head in his hand, nestled into his shoulder. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “I’ve got you.”

 

Bucky exhaled shakily. He had literally never felt so cared for in his life—and that was part of the problem. “I’ve got some pretty strong feelings for you, Stevie, and they’re scaring me a little, because I feel like there’s no way I could possibly be good enough for you.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve felt kind of broken for a long time, but when I’m with you, it’s like, you don’t see me as broken, or messed up. When I’m with you, I feel whole. You make me feel so good, Stevie, so happy.” He took another tissue as more tears threatened. “I’m scared that I’m going to be one-hundred-per-cent into this, this relationship, and that you’re eventually going to get tired of me and my problems. And then you’ll leave.”

 

Steve was listening carefully, hearing the insecurity in Bucky’s voice, the belief that he wasn’t worthy or deserving of love, and it just about broke his heart. There were several people in Bucky’s past that he could blame this on, but at the moment, his little boy needed assurances from Steve and no one else.

 

“Thank you for telling me this, for talking to me,” Steve whispered, lightly stroking Bucky’s hair. “I’ve always thought that actions speak louder than words, but I know that words are really important, too. I’ve been holding some words back, because I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but I think you need to hear some of them. Is it okay if I tell you?” he asked, wanting Bucky to feel like he had control of the situation.

 

Bucky nodded against Steve’s shoulder, then snuggled in close again.

 

“You, James Buchanan Barnes, are so precious to me,” Steve said, squeezing Bucky tight. “I absolutely adore you—so much so that I find it difficult to concentrate at work sometimes because I miss you and can’t stop thinking about you.” He kissed Bucky’s forehead and continued. “When I said that you were everything I have ever wanted, I meant it. Every word of it. I can’t even imagine anyone more perfect for me than you. You make me so happy, baby, just by being you. And you are not broken. People have treated you badly, and you’ve been hurt, but you’re not broken. You are so sweet, and you’re so smart and funny and kind and strong and beautiful, inside and out, and you are so sexy, sweetheart. Making love with you is the most incredible and fulfilling sexual experience I’ve ever had, because it’s so much more than just sex.

 

“I love being with you, talking with you, spending time with you, and I love taking care of you,” he continued, speaking every word slowly and clearly. “I love going to sleep with you, and I love waking up with you.

 

“Do you remember our first date? We promised to always tell each other the truth, right?” Bucky nodded in response, obviously not feeling verbal at the moment. “So do you believe that I mean the things I’m telling you right now?”

 

He felt Bucky’s breath hitching when he nodded again and rubbed his back soothingly. “I know that logically it’s too soon to start planning long-term, but I can’t help it; any time I think of the future, I picture us together, sharing everything. It feels right to me. And I hope, more than anything, that you’ll let me be part of your life for a very, very long time—whether it’s as your Daddy, or as your boyfriend, or as something more, or even if one day you decide that you just want us to be friends—“ Bucky hiccupped and squeezed him tight, “I will always want you, and want to be with you, my sweet, wonderful, beautiful boy.”

 

Bucky sobbed, burying his face in Steve’s neck. He cooed soothingly, comforting his little boy. “It’s okay, baby, go ahead and let it out. We’re both having some pretty big feelings right now, and I know it seems really fast, and that can make it scary. But I’m with you, one-hundred-per-cent, sweetheart, and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Not even knowing what to say, Bucky held on to Steve as hard as he could, hardly daring to believe that Steve could care for Bucky as much as Bucky cared for him. But that was the thing—Steve had never lied to him, and had promised that he would always tell the truth. In the roughly two months that they had been together, he had never given Bucky reason to doubt his words.

 

And _god,_ it felt so good to talk to Steve, to get his concerns off his chest and know that Steve didn’t think he was crazy or being too sensitive or needy or over-dramatic; that he was actually being taken seriously in a relationship. It was an amazing feeling, to know with such certainty that he could trust Steve with not just his body, but with his heart, too.

 

“Thank you, Stevie,” he whispered, still hiccupping and sniffling, but with a little smile on his face. Steve continued to rub his back and stroke his hair, cuddling him close and soothing him as best he could. Bucky felt the tension slowly leaving his muscles, and he finally relaxed, melting in Steve’s arms. His eyelids drooped as exhaustion swept over him.

 

“Can I interest you in a shower, baby boy?” Steve asked softly, brushing Bucky’s hair out of his eyes.

 

“I’m so sleepy now, Daddy,” Bucky mumbled, burrowing into Steve’s warmth.

 

“I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Steve said.

 

He did manage to get Bucky cleaned up and dried off, and even got him to brush his teeth, before literally carrying him back into the bedroom and putting him in bed. They drifted off to sleep, curled up together, warm and happy.

 

In the morning, while they were eating breakfast, Steve said, “Since I’m hoping you’ll be here as much as possible,” Bucky raised his eyebrows curiously, “is there anything you need that I can pick up? Just to make it easier for you?”

 

“Would it be okay if I brought some toiletries over?” Bucky asked, smiling hopefully.

 

“Absolutely, baby. The medicine cabinet by your sink is empty, fill it with anything you need,” Steve replied, thrilled that Bucky seemed so pleased with the idea. “There’s also room under your sink. I want you to be completely comfortable here.”

 

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky grinned. After a few moments, he added, “Maybe make sure you have plenty of that peppermint conditioner.”

 

Steve laughed as he passed by Bucky’s chair, leaning down to kiss his head. “Anything for you, baby.”

 

***

 

The following morning, while sitting at his desk at work, Steve got a phone call that he had been neither expecting nor hoping for. Out of nowhere, his ex-girlfriend Sharon called, absolutely adamant that she needed to speak to him. And _no,_ they couldn’t handle it over the phone; it needed to be in person. “I’m busy, Sharon,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “What on Earth could we possibly need to—“

 

“Oh, come on, Steve,” Sharon said in that vaguely condescending way of hers. “Just meet me in the lobby of my office at noon.”

 

So Steve had gone, because of course he did.

 

So at noon exactly, he walked into the lobby of Mandarin Publishing, where Sharon worked—and stopped cold. There she was, talking with, of all people, Alexander Pierce. Steve set his face into as impassive an expression as he could muster and approached the two. “Sharon,” he said curtly.

 

“Oh, Steve, there you are, finally,” she said, sounding slightly exasperated.

 

“You said noon,” Steve reminded her. “It’s noon.”

 

“Well, Steve, in this business, if you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late.” Again with the condescension. She gestured to Pierce as Steve barely managed not to roll his eyes. “Steve, have you ever met Alexander Pierce?” she asked, smiling brightly.

 

“Yes,” Steve looked at her flatly, completely ignoring Pierce’s presence. “Why did you need to see me, Sharon?” he asked.

 

“Oh, you know what, Steve?” she said, an overly regretful look on her face. “I completely forgot about a lunch meeting I have upstairs in fifteen minutes. I’ll need to reschedule with you.”

 

Steve narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you serious?” he asked, annoyed. Sharon _never_ forgot about meetings.

 

“But since you’re here,” she said, smiling again, “why don’t you have a chat with Mister Pierce? I’m sure you two will have so much in common.” She backed up a step or two. “Good to see you, Mister Pierce. Steve, we’ll talk later. I’ll call you,” she waved, then turned and left.

 

“This is a rather fortuitous occurrence,” Pierce began, looking pleased to be face-to-face with Steve. “I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you. You’re not an easy man to get hold of.”

 

“It depends on who’s trying to find me,” Steve said, not doing much to keep the displeasure out of his voice. “And since I’ve wasted enough time today, I need to be—“

 

“I wanted to talk to you about purchasing SHIELD Publications,” Pierce said, his tone confident that he had Steve’s full attention.

 

“SHIELD isn’t for sale,” Steve said, each word bitten off. “It isn’t now, and it never will be.”

 

Pierce smiled easily, as if they were discussing baseball. “Oh, come now. You’re only saying that because you haven’t been given a serious offer.” He focused intently on Steve. “I’m willing to buy SHIELD Publications and all of its characters right now, and make you a very rich man in the process.”

 

“You are wasting your time,” Steve said, getting angrier every minute. “I’ve made it clear on several occasions that I have no intention of ever doing business with you. My reasons before were purely professional, but now I have more than a few personal reasons as well. I cannot be bought, especially by someone like you. Don’t try to contact me again or I’ll have my lawyer begin harassment proceedings against you.”

 

Steve turned and walked out of the building, not bothering to look back.

 

 

***

 

The following Sunday morning, Bucky stretched in bed, frowning to find Steve’s side empty. “Stevie?” he called out, his voice sounding scratchy from lack of use.

 

“Be right there, Buck,” he replied from outside the room.

 

Grumbling at the chill of the room, Bucky burrowed back under the covers. “Hurry up, I’m cold,” he said.

 

He could hear Steve laughing, and a minute or so later, he padded barefoot back into the room, wearing a bathrobe. “Sorry, baby,” he said, taking off the robe and draping it over the foot of the bed. “Brrr,” he shivered, quickly sliding back between the sheets and reaching for Bucky. “I just turned the heat on. I can’t believe it’s November already.”

 

“Oh, my god!” Bucky yelped, flinching at the contact. “Your feet are like ice!”

 

“So warm me up, sweetheart,” Steve teased, pulling Bucky close and nuzzling under his ear.

 

“You evil, evil man,” Bucky groused, rubbing Steve’s arms quickly to warm them. “Why were you even up?”

 

“I had an idea, and I needed to get it down on paper quick,” Steve said, sighing happily as his limbs thawed.

 

Bucky perked up. “What is it? Can I see?” he asked excitedly.

 

“Later,” Steve replied. “I worked on it most of the day yesterday and got stuck on a part of the story line, but the answer just came to me while I was sleeping.”

 

“So you’re saying that sex with me is inspiring,” Bucky stated, a beatific expression on his face.

 

“Every damn time,” Steve growled playfully, nipping Bucky’s earlobe, making him giggle. “So what do you want to do today, baby?”

 

“What time is Sam coming over?” Bucky asked, snuggling close now that Steve was warm again.

 

“He can’t today,” Steve said. “His team has a bye week, so Maria is making him go antiquing or something.”

 

Bucky shuddered. “Please don’t make me do that, ever,” he cringed.

 

“It’s not my thing, either,” Steve laughed. “But that means it’s just you and me today.”

 

“So we can stay in our jammies all day?” he asked, looking at him hopefully.

 

“If you want to,” Steve laughed, “we can absolutely do that.”

 

“Oh, wait,” Bucky sighed, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t bring any.”

 

“Oh, uh, well,” Steve stammered a bit, blushing, “that’s not a problem, really.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes, “it’s too cold to wander around in just my underwear.”

 

“No, I know,” he said, laughing. “It’s just that I, um….”

 

“What? What did you do?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

 

“The top right-hand drawer of the dresser has jammies for you,” he said, smiling. When Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, he added, “There are socks and underwear, too.”

 

“You—“ Bucky blinked and shook his head. “You got me socks and underwear? And jammies?”

 

“Yeah,” he responded, chuckling. “I wanted you to always have something comfy here.”

 

“You got me a drawer?” Bucky asked, a smile stretching across his face.

 

“Two drawers, actually,” Steve grinned. “The second one is still empty, so you can put whatever you want in there. I also cleared some space in the closet.”

 

“Aww, Stevie,” Bucky said, his bottom lip jutting out. “You ridiculously sweet, adorable, beautiful man.”

 

“Just doing what I can to keep you here,” he responded, leaning up to kiss him.

 

“You don’t need to buy me things to keep me here,” Bucky said, softly.

 

“I know, I just like to,” Steve said, smiling. “It makes me happy.”

 

***

 

They spent the whole day cuddling together and watching football games. Bucky loved the jammie pants and the ridiculously soft t-shirts that Steve got for him, laughing that Steve had snooped to find out Bucky’s preferred brands of underwear and socks. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” Steve said, shrugging. Bucky kissed him for a long time, sprawled over his chest as they lay on the couch, both of them feeling happier than they’d ever been.

 

That night, though, Steve was driving Bucky home, and there was a new feeling in the car, one that Steve didn’t like at all. “I have to tell you,” Steve said, gently squeezing Bucky’s hand, “I really don’t like taking you home.”

 

Bucky frowned, misunderstanding his meaning. “I could call Clint, or a cab, or even take the train, if you’d rather not—“

 

“No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant,” Steve said, shaking his head. He pulled into an empty space half a block down from the townhouse where Bucky lived with Clint and Natasha. He switched off the engine and turned to face Bucky. “I don’t mind driving you anywhere you need to be. I meant to say that I wish you didn’t have to leave. I love having you over at my place, and it feels empty without you there.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said softly, his eyes wide.

 

“I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for,” Steve said, holding both of Bucky’s hands in his, “and I know you have reasons for staying here. You feel safe here, and I absolutely respect that. I just want you to know that I love having you with me, that when you’re there, it feels right, and even more like home.”

 

Bucky swallowed hard. “Wow,” he whispered. He smiled, chuckling a little shakily. “You sure do know how to make a guy feel special, Rogers.”

 

“You are special, Barnes,” Steve replied, leaning forward to kiss him slowly.

 

Bucky melted into the kiss, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. He scratched Steve’s beard lightly, running his fingers through the soft whiskers. When they finally broke apart to breathe, they rested their foreheads together.

 

“Think about it,” Steve murmured.

 

“I will,” Bucky replied softly.

 

Steve smiled and kissed Bucky’s forehead. “Okay. Come on, baby, you have work in the morning. I’ll walk you to the door.”

 

“You have work, too,” Bucky countered with a grin, turning to get out of the car.

 

“I start later than you. I’ll be fine,” he responded, winking.

 

They walked together, hand-in-hand to Bucky’s door, and after a few more kisses, Bucky went inside, and Steve walked down the steps and headed back to his car. He sat in his car for a couple of minutes, worrying whether he had pushed Bucky for too much, too soon, when movement up ahead caught his attention.

 

A man with dark hair was walking up the stairs to the front door of Nat and Clint’s townhouse. Steve watched as the man knocked on the front door, wondering if he was a friend of theirs. A few seconds later the door opened, but whoever opened it tried to shut it again immediately. The dark-haired visitor shouldered his way in.

 

Steve was out of his car and running by the time the man reappeared, dragging Bucky outside.

 

***

 

Bucky was in the kitchen, getting a glass of water, when he heard the knock on the door. He grinned, assuming that Steve had forgotten to tell him something or maybe, just maybe, Steve didn’t want to leave. Bucky certainly wouldn’t turn him away if he wanted to stay.

 

He stepped quickly to the door, not wanting to disturb Nat and Clint, and opened it with a smile—which promptly died when he found himself face-to-face with Brock Rumlow.

 

“Hey there, James,” he sneered.

 

Bucky tried to slam the door, but Brock stuck one of his boots inside, blocking it. “I knew I’d find out where you were hiding eventually,” Brock grunted, shoving his shoulder against the door and pushing it open. “Did ya think leaving your apartment would be enough to keep me away?”

 

Bucky was gasping for air, backing away from him. “Get out, Brock,” he whispered.

 

“Okay,” he nodded, smiling. He reached suddenly for Bucky, who managed to turn his left side away in an attempt to protect his arm, but Brock simply grabbed his right wrist with a bruising grip and pulled him up against his chest. Wrapping his right arm around Bucky’s torso and holding him tightly against his body, Brock leaned down to run his tongue along Bucky’s throat as the smaller man tried to bring up his left hand and push him away. “But we have some unfinished business, so you’re coming with me.” Then he stepped back and yanked Bucky out the door.

 

“Stop!” Bucky finally managed to yell, and he tried to pry his arm out of Brock’s grip, but the man’s hands were like iron. “Let me go, Brock!”

 

“Not a chance, James,” he growled as he pulled Bucky forcibly down the steps to the sidewalk. “Shut up and get in the car.”

 

_“Like hell, he will.”_

 

Brock and Bucky turned their heads just in time for Steve’s fist to connect with Brock’s jaw. It staggered him, and was enough to get the dark-haired man to loosen his grip on Bucky’s arm. He ripped himself out of Brock’s grasp, hissing at the pain. Steve pushed Bucky behind him, toward the steps to his door.

 

The man straightened up, his jaw clicking as he moved it around, the beginnings of a bruise already beginning to bloom low on his left cheek. “Well, look who it is,” he sneered. “The new boyfriend.”

 

“Get inside, Buck,” Steve said, his voice low and dangerous.

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, his eyes wide and fearful.

 

“If you _ever_ come anywhere near Bucky again,” Steve said, advancing on Brock menacingly and sounding angrier than Bucky would ever have thought possible, “ _I will fucking kill you._ ”

 

Brock chuckled, starting to reach for his back pocket. “You really think he’s worth dyin’ for?”

 

“ _You_ obviously think so,” Steve retorted, nearly snarling, taking another step forward.

 

“Bucky?” Clint’s voice rang out from the open door. “What’s going— _what the hell?_ ”

 

Seeing he was outnumbered, Brock rethought his course of action and backed up as Clint came down the stairs. “This ain’t over, pal,” he said to Steve as he turned and ran over to a car that was already running. He got in the passenger side and they drove quickly down the street. Steve watched as they left, noting the make and model of the car and the absence of a license plate.

 

“Steve,” Bucky sobbed behind him, and Steve turned just in time to catch Bucky as he launched himself into his arms.

 

Steve held him tightly. “It’s okay, you’re safe, baby, he’s gone,” Steve repeated over and over as Bucky shook violently.

 

“Let’s get inside, guys,” Clint said, his face clearly pale even in the dim light of the street.

 

Steve swept Bucky into his arms and carried him up the stairs and into the house past Nat, who stood there, looking shaken. Steve didn’t stop until he reached the bathroom, where he set Bucky gently on his feet, just in time for the younger man to drop to his knees in front of the toilet and vomit. Steve knelt behind him, holding his hair away from his face, whispering to him and rubbing his back. Clint tapped Steve’s shoulder, handing him a hair tie and a cool washcloth and pointing to a bottle of water on the counter by the sink. Steve nodded his thanks and then turned his attention back to Bucky.

 

He secured Bucky’s hair and dabbed at the back of his neck and his forehead with the washcloth, still talking quietly to him. When Bucky was finished emptying his stomach, Steve wiped his face down and helped him to his feet, flushing the toilet. He gave Bucky the bottle of water, but his hands were still shaking so hard that it splashed over the rim.

 

“Here, baby, let me hold it for you,” Steve said softly, holding the bottle while Bucky took a small drink. After rinsing his mouth and a couple of successful sips, Steve set the bottle down and poured some mouthwash into a small paper cup. “Here you go, sweetheart, the mint will help settle your stomach,” he said, handing the small cup to Bucky, which he was able to use to rinse his mouth out. After gargling and spitting, he stood at the sink, breathing shakily.

 

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered, his voice sounding completely shredded. He looked down at the counter and suddenly grabbed the washcloth, running it under hot water. He squirted soap on it and started scrubbing at his neck.

 

“What are you doing, baby?” Steve asked, concerned.

 

“He licked me,” Bucky said flatly, still scrubbing, a repulsed, disgusted look on his face. After a few moments, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, Steve gently touched his shoulders.

 

“You’re okay, honey. He’s gone,” the blond said, carefully taking the washcloth from Bucky’s hand. He rinsed the soap out, then gently wiped Bucky’s neck, which was red from the force of his scouring. “He’s gone.” He took a hand towel and patted Bucky’s skin dry, then kissed his cheek softly.

 

A few seconds later, Bucky exhaled and nodded, looking up at Steve. His eyes and nose were red and watery, and he looked so desperately sad that Steve wanted to go out and track down that bastard and beat him to an absolute pulp for hurting his little boy.

 

“Come here, sweetheart,” Steve said, turning Bucky in his arms and holding him close. “I’ve got you.” He tucked Bucky against him, under his chin. He could still feel him shaking. “Let’s go sit down, okay, baby?” he asked. When Bucky nodded again, they turned and walked out into the living room, where Clint and Nat were waiting, looking worried.

 

As soon as Bucky saw them, his breath hitched again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

“This isn’t your fault, Bucky,” Nat said quickly, reaching for his hand. “We’re not angry at you. Not at all.”

 

“We need to call the police,” Steve said, setting Bucky on the couch next to Nat. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him. He leaned his head onto her shoulder as Steve knelt at his feet, rubbing his knees soothingly. “We should call Maria.”

 

“Maria?” Clint asked, standing behind the couch with his arms folded. “Who’s Maria?”

 

“Sam’s girlfriend is a Detective with the NYPD,” Steve explained. “Long story, but she’s been expecting this.” He turned back to Bucky. “Do you still have her card?”

 

Bucky nodded. “My wallet is in my backpack,” he said, his voice sounding emotionless and empty.

 

“I’m going to call her, okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded again, staring vacantly.

 

Steve went to Bucky’s room and found the backpack sitting on his bed. Steve opened the front pocket and took out Bucky’s wallet. He hadn’t realized that Clint had followed him until he heard him speak. “Steve,” he said, sounding wrecked.

 

Steve turned around, surprised. “Yeah, Clint?” he asked, concerned.

 

“I—I just,” he shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Thank you, Steve,” he finally choked out.

 

Steve nodded, looking at the wallet in his hand. “I love him, Clint,” he said, saying the words out loud for the first time and feeling them with absolute certainty. “I love Bucky, and if I ever see that son of a bitch Rumlow again, I’m going to kill him.” He held up Bucky’s wallet. “So Maria better get to him before I do.”

 

He flipped the wallet open and found Maria’s card tucked inside, next to a small printout of the selfie that Steve had sent him. “I love him,” Steve said again, a little smile on his lips.

 

“Have you told him yet?” Clint asked, sounding calmer.

 

Steve shook his head. “Didn’t want to overwhelm him,” he said, huffing a laugh.

 

Clint reached over and squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “Make the call. I’m going out to the living room.”

 

Steve nodded, took out his cell phone, and started dialing.

 

***

 

“Hey, Bucky,” Maria said softly, walking into the living room and crouching down in front of him. A man that Steve didn’t know, but who looked vaguely familiar in a nondescript sort of way, stood off to the side, a satchel slung over his shoulder. Bucky was curled up in Steve’s lap, an ice pack on his right forearm. He had changed into lounge pants and a t-shirt, and when Steve saw the finger-shaped bruises, he had swept Bucky up in his arms again, refusing to put him down.

 

Nat had gotten the ice pack for Bucky’s arm, and it was at this point that she had seen Steve’s right hand—his knuckles were bruised, the second one bloody and split—and had immediately cleaned him up and fetched him an ice pack as well.

 

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly, leaning heavily against Steve, his head on Steve’s shoulder. Nat sat on his other side, rubbing his back and stroking his hair. She had removed the hair tie and brushed his hair, which had helped to relax him.

 

“Hi, Maria,” Steve said, snuggling Bucky close. “Thank you for coming.”

 

“Of course,” she said, smiling a little sadly. “So, Bucky, as I told Steve, because we’re in the 79th Precinct and I work in the 84th, I called a friend of mine. This is Phil Coulson, and he’s a Detective in the 79th. He’s going to be the one to take your official statement. I’ll stay here to help, okay?”

 

Bucky nodded, looking a little glazed.

 

“I’m sorry I have to ask this right away,” Phil said in a quiet and soothing tone, “but I see you both have some injuries. Is it okay with you if I photograph them for evidence?”

 

“We already did,” Steve said, unlocking his phone and opening the photo app. He handed the phone to Phil so that he could scroll through the pictures they had taken.

 

“Thank you,” Phil said, nodding. “I’m going to email these to myself, if that’s alright with you.”

 

Steve agreed, taking his phone back when Phil was finished.

 

“Steve,” Maria said softly. When he looked at her, she said, “It’s probably best, since you and Bucky both need to give complete statements, that I take you into another room while Phil talks to Bucky out here.”

 

Bucky immediately clutched Steve’s arm and turned his face into Steve’s neck. “Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Steve murmured. “Nat and Clint will stay with you, and I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?”

 

“Don’t leave,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s collar.

 

“I’m not leaving, Buck, I promise,” Steve said. “Maria and I are going to talk in your room for a few minutes, that’s all. I’m not leaving you tonight—or anytime soon, for that matter.”

 

A few seconds passed before Bucky nodded minutely, and let Steve maneuver him onto the couch next to Nat, who wrapped him up in her arms again. After kissing his temple, Steve stood and started walking down to hall to Bucky’s room, Maria behind him. Steve could hear Phil’s soft voice beginning to speak in the living room.

 

Steve entered Bucky’s room and sat down heavily on the bed, dropping his face into his hands. Maria shut the door and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked, immediately dropping the officer persona and becoming Steve’s friend.

 

“No,” Steve said honestly, shaking his head. “When I saw that bastard trying to drag Bucky away, trying to get him to his car, I have never—” He breathed slowly, doing his best to stay calm and not collapse. “I’ve never been a guy to back down from a fight when people were being bullied, but this is the first time I have ever really _wanted_ to hurt someone.”

 

“It’s understandable,” Maria said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bucky is important to you, of course you want to protect him.”

 

“I love him,” Steve said, calmly. It seemed like now that he’d said it out loud, he couldn’t stop saying it. “I’ll protect him with everything I am. If Rumlow shows his face anywhere near Bucky again I’m going—“

 

“To not say anything to someone who could potentially be called as a witness for the prosecution,” Maria said. “I understand exactly what you’re saying, Steve, you just can’t say it to me.” She waited until he nodded. “You should probably call Sam, though,” she said.

 

“Oh?” Steve asked, his eyebrows rising.

 

“Yeah, he saw that you were the one calling me, and he’s plenty worried,” she said.

 

“Yeah, I need to make a few phone calls,” Steve sighed. “I’m taking tomorrow off, at least, more if Bucky needs me.”

 

“Okay,” Maria nodded. “Go ahead and start calling. I’ll stay quiet unless Phil comes to the door—and I won’t hear anything you say.”

 

Steve spent the next half-hour talking to Sam, his office assistant, Peter, Peggy, and Tony, letting them know what had happened and that he wouldn’t be in to the office for a day or more. Everyone was incredibly supportive and worried about Bucky, which loosened some of the tightness in Steve’s chest.

 

He was just finishing up telling Tony what had happened when there was a knock on the door. “I gotta go, Tony,” Steve said. “The detective needs my statement.”

 

“Call me back when you have time, Steve,” Tony said quietly, all kidding aside. “I have a couple of ideas.”

 

Steve huffed out a laugh as Maria opened the door. “Thanks, Tony, I’ll talk to you soon.” He disconnected the call as Phil walked in. “Detective Coulson,” he said, shaking Phil’s hand gingerly, the bruises on his knuckles starting to ache. Maria gave him a small wave and left, shutting the door behind her.

 

“Please, call me Phil,” he said, motioning for Steve to have a seat on the bed. He took the chair in the corner and opened his satchel, removing a laptop. “This may seem a little out of left field,” Phil said, typing on his keyboard, “but we’ve actually met before.”

 

“I thought you looked familiar,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly, “but I can’t place it. Was it through Maria and Sam?”

 

“No, it was at a comic book convention,” he smiled, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I’m a huge fan of your work. I have several original pieces that you’ve done, and you were kind enough to sign one of them for me.”

 

Steve smiled, a somewhat bemused expression on his face. “ _’Captain America vs. Red Skull,’_ ” he said, suddenly remembering.

 

“Exactly the one,” Phil said, pleased that Steve would recall. “I always thought it was astonishing that you were so amazed that people collected your work.” He smiled at Steve. “It was refreshing to meet someone so talented who was also so humble.”

 

“That’s very nice of you to say,” Steve said, giving him a little half-smile.

 

Phil nodded. “I’m sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances.”

 

“Me, too,” Steve said, exhaling slowly. “So, Detective, what do you need from me?”

 

For the next twenty minutes, Steve told his side of the story from beginning to end, including punching Rumlow in order to get him to release Bucky, the make and model of the car that Rumlow got into when he fled—Phil sent a quick message out with the car’s description—how Bucky was physically ill after the altercation, everything.

 

Phil asked a few thoughtful questions, helping to keep Steve focused on the facts; he was thorough without being pushy, and was respectful the entire time. Steve could see why Maria liked him and was thankful she had called him. When they were done, Steve stood and shook his hand again.

 

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” Steve said. “I’m sure Bucky appreciates it as much as I do.”

 

“He’s been through enough,” Phil said, pulling the satchel strap over his shoulder. “Everything you’ve said is in alignment with his story, so I’ll be seeking a warrant for Rumlow’s arrest for attempted kidnapping as well as assault and battery with intent to do bodily harm. I’ve also sent out a BOLO for the car.”

 

“Did Bucky tell you anything else about Rumlow?” Steve asked.

 

“Past history between the two will only come up if Rumlow tries to fight the charges,” Phil said. “With his record, pleading guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence is probably his best option.”

 

“I want him gone,” Steve said, his eyes getting dark. “I will protect Bucky any way I have to.”

 

“I don’t blame you at all,” Phil said agreeably, as if they were discussing the weather. “Mister Barnes is lucky to have you looking out for him.”

 

“A lot of people care about Bucky,” Steve said. “We’ll all be watching out for him.”

 

“Understood,” Phil nodded, smiling pleasantly.

 

The two men left the room and walked down the hall. Maria was chatting with everyone about silly things, telling stories about Steve to make Bucky smile. “This can’t be good,” Steve said with a grin.

 

Maria stood, putting her phone into her pocket. “Telling embarrassing stories about you is always good,” she said. “I have so many to choose from.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, hugging her. “Thanks for coming.”

 

“Absolutely,” Maria said, nodding. “I’ll make sure a copy of our file gets to Phil. We’ll get this guy.”

 

Bucky stood then. “Thanks, Maria, Detective Coulson,” he said, nodding to them both.

 

Maria walked over to Bucky and hugged him. “You’re family, Bucky. We take care of our own.” She kissed him on the cheek, pretending not to see how he’d teared up. “Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, nodding.

 

Once Maria and Phil left, Nat went into a flurry of activity, insisting on making everyone eggs and toast. Bucky tried to protest, citing the late hour, but Clint just shook his head a little, and whispered, “She needs to do this.”

 

So, at nearly midnight, all four of them were sitting at the table eating scrambled eggs and toasted sourdough. Afterwards, they said their goodnights and Steve ushered Bucky into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Is my toothbrush still here somewhere?” he asked, one side of his lips curling up.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a tired smile, opening the medicine cabinet and taking out a cup with two brushes inside it. “Does this mean you’re staying here tonight?” he asked quietly.

 

“Is that okay with you?” Steve asked, even though he had no intention of leaving. Even if Bucky said he didn’t want him there, Steve would stay in his car overnight, watching the townhouse.

 

He didn’t need to worry, though, as the relief on Bucky’s face was obvious. “Yes, please,” he said, leaning in to Steve’s side.

 

Ten minutes later, they were curled up in Bucky’s bed, holding each other close, though it was a long time before they fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that was some drama. Our sweet baby Buckster. :***( I hope the warning was sufficient and that the content was not overly upsetting.
> 
> Daddy Steve is definitely a Disney prince.
> 
> Bajillions of thanks to everyone for the kudos and comments. When things have been rough IRL, those have always managed to put a smile on my face. This community is awesome! <3 <3 <3


	12. I Feel I'm On the Cross Again Lately

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama isn't over yet. Other nastiness is in the works.
> 
> It's not all bad, though--friends and feels are in there, too.

  

In the morning, Steve woke from a few fitful hours of sleep to find Bucky curled up into a tight ball, his back to Steve. Steve leaned over to see Bucky’s still-sleeping face, and was able to make out the dried tracks of the tears that had run from the corners of his eyes. Wanting desperately to comfort him, but also not wanting to wake him, Steve was torn by what to do. A noise from elsewhere in the house made his decision for him.

 

He slipped quietly from the bed, tucking the sheets and blankets securely around Bucky, then pulled on some clothes and grabbed his phone before leaving the room. He left the door open a bit, wanting to hear when Bucky started moving around. He walked down the hall to find Nat and Clint in the kitchen, both of them looking up when Steve came in.

 

“How is he?” Nat asked immediately, her brow furrowed in worry.

 

“He’s still sleeping,” Steve sighed. “It was a rough night.”

 

Nat nodded, then hesitated for a moment before coming around the counter where she was working to give Steve a hug. “Thank you so much for being here last night,” she whispered. “I don’t know what would have happened if—“

 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Steve said, returning her hug before she stepped away. “It will. I care about Bucky way too much to let anything happen to him,” he said quietly, smiling at her.

 

“I can see that,” Nat smiled, before turning back to the puff pastry she was layering into a large tray. “Luckily, Mondays are my easy work days, only a few orders to get done. What are your plans for today?” she asked.

 

“I’ve already told my staff I won’t be in,” Steve said. “I’m staying with Bucky for as long as he wants me. Do you have Nick’s phone number?” he asked. “He needs to know what happened. Bucky won’t be in today, or tomorrow, if I have anything to say about it.”

 

“Yeah,” Clint spoke up, taking out his phone and bringing up his contacts. Steve entered the number on his own phone and pressed the green ‘call’ button. As it rang, he wandered into the living room, looking at the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. He stood in a patch of light, feeling the warmth on his bare feet.

 

When Nick picked up, Steve introduced himself and apologized for the early call. Once he explained why he was calling, Nick unleashed a torrent of profanity that startled Steve to the point that he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in surprise.

 

“Probably should have warned you,” Clint said, somewhat amused, considering the gravity of the situation. “Nick gets pissed when anyone messes with his people.”

 

Nick eventually calmed down and Steve filled him in on the rest; the police had been notified, Bucky’s forearm was badly bruised but otherwise all right, but he would need at least one day off. “Detective Coulson said last night that they would be getting an arrest warrant, so we’re hoping to hear from him or Maria soon.”

 

“Keep me posted, tell Buck to take all the time he needs. We have people who can cover, it’s not a problem,” Nick said, much calmer now.

 

“Thanks, Nick,” Steve said, and after their goodbyes they ended the call. He turned and walked back toward the kitchen. “Anything I can help you with in here?” he asked, watching as Nat went from one workstation to another, preparing trays for the ovens.

 

“Here, try this,” Clint said, handing Steve a small cup of coffee. Steve took the cup and inhaled slowly, the aroma warming him.

 

“It smells great,” Steve said, taking a sip. He moaned a little, Clint chuckling in response. “Oh, this is fantastic,” Steve sighed. It wasn’t sweet, but there was an undercurrent of…. “It reminds me of gingerbread,” Steve said, smiling.

 

“You got it,” Clint smiled. “I know you don’t like the fluffy, creamy sweet drinks, so Nat made a simple syrup infused with cinnamon, ginger, allspice, nutmeg, and cloves. You get the spicy flavor without the sweetness.”

 

“This is excellent,” Steve grinned, taking another drink. “It tastes like Christmas.”

 

He heard a noise from down the hall and set his cup down quickly. “I think Bucky’s awake,” he said, hurrying down the hallway, missing the smiles that passed between Clint and Nat.

 

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. Bucky had rolled over toward Steve’s side of the bed and was clutching the pillow Steve had used. His shoulders were shaking as he used the pillow to muffle himself. Steve quickly came in and quietly shut the door, moving to Bucky’s side. “Baby,” Steve said softly, sitting behind Bucky and lightly touching his hip.

 

Bucky gasped and flinched, spinning away from Steve’s hand, panic on his face. “Sweetheart, it’s me,” Steve said, mentally slapping himself for startling his little boy. “I’m sorry, baby boy, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“You’re still here?” Bucky asked, disbelief and tears on his face. “I thought you’d left.”

 

“Oh, honey, of course I’m still here,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I told you I’m not leaving. I’m with you for as long as you want me.” He looked at Bucky, who was still holding himself stiffly. “Are you okay, baby?” he asked, concerned.

 

“Yeah, I just—“ he swallowed hard, “you weren’t here and your clothes were gone.”

 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, laying down and opening his arms. Bucky immediately curled up against him, wiping under his eyes and then burying his face against Steve’s throat. “I heard Clint and Natasha in the kitchen, and I wanted to see how they were doing.” He kissed Bucky’s forehead and smiled, pulling the blankets up over them and wrapping him in his arms. “Figured putting on pants, at least, would be appreciated.”

 

“Not by me,” Bucky grumbled, and Steve chuckled. Bucky nuzzled against Steve, calming down and relaxing into his warmth. “Are they okay? Nat and Clint?”

 

“They’re worried about you, but otherwise they seem fine,” Steve said, rubbing Bucky’s back, encouraging the brunet to snuggle even closer. “Nat’s baking, Clint made some awesome coffee that tastes like gingerbread.”

 

Steve then told him that he had already spoken to Nick, and that he wanted Bucky to take as much time as he needed. “After we talk to Maria or Phil today, we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on,” Steve said.

 

“I hope they catch him soon,” Bucky whispered, sliding a hand under Steve’s shirt, needing to be closer to his skin. “It scares me to think of what he could be doing out there.”

 

“You’re safe with me, baby boy,” Steve said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

 

Eventually, they got out of bed, their stomachs insisting on being fed. They ate a simple breakfast, Bucky not feeling up to anything more, as Clint left for the café to drop off the delivery. “Pietro is there this morning,” he said. “I can have Scott come in tonight if I need him to.”

 

“I should probably go to my place and get some clean clothes,” Steve said, feeling bad when Bucky looked at him anxiously. “I’ll come right back, I swear.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t go alone,” Nat said, sitting with them as she drank her coffee. “Can you wait until Clint comes back?”

 

“Sure,” Steve nodded, and he smiled when both Bucky and Nat looked relieved. “I’m going to call my friend Tony, he wanted to talk to me about something last night.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky said, “I’m going to take a shower.” He leaned over and kissed Steve lightly. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

 

Bucky had just walked down the hall when Steve’s phone rang; it was Maria, asking if she could come by. “Absolutely,” Steve said.

 

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she replied.

 

She arrived alone, looking grim. “Phil called me this morning to tell me they’d gotten the arrest warrant,” she said. “Rumlow didn’t show up at his apartment last night or for work today.”

 

Bucky came out to the living room, his hair damp, and his eyes a little red, turning his irises icy-blue. “So what does that mean?” he asked, standing next to Steve. He had put on a black, short-sleeved t-shirt, and when he crossed his arms over his chest, the dark purple bruising on his right forearm stood out in stark contrast to his fair skin.

 

Seeing this, Maria requested additional photos for evidence. “Do you know anyone who might be helping him?” Maria asked as she took pictures of Bucky’s arm with her phone.

 

“I didn’t know any of his friends, really,” Bucky shrugged, holding his arm out. “There was one guy, Jack Rollins, I think his name was, that was looking at me weird when he made the delivery at the bookstore instead of Brock a few weeks ago. They might be friends.”

 

“Okay, let me call Phil,” she said as she finished taking pictures. She walked over to the window in the living room, looking outside, when he picked up. She relayed the information and then waited for several minutes. When he came back on the line, Maria got a hard glint in her eyes. “You’ll put out the updated BOLO?” she asked, then said, “Right, I’ll pass that on. Thanks, Phil.”

 

When she hung up, she turned to face the others. “You would be correct, Bucky. Rumlow and Jack Rollins, according to their co-workers, are best friends, and Rollins _also_ didn’t show up for work today. Even better, Mister Rollins drives the same make and model car that you saw Rumlow get into last night.”

 

“So they’re probably together,” Steve surmised.

 

“That’s my guess,” Maria said. “Phil’s got Rollins’ license plate number, so he’s updating the Be On the Look Out that we issued last night for the car. He’s also sending a couple of squad cars over to Rollins’ address.”

 

“I hope they find him,” Bucky said, biting his lip.

 

“We will,” Maria said firmly. “It might take a little while, but we’ll get him, I promise. Now,” she said, getting to her feet, “I need to get to the station. Are you all okay here?” The occupants of the house nodded, and Maria left.

 

After she was gone, Steve finally called Tony, who was extremely relieved to hear from him. When Steve filled him in on what was happening, Tony asked, “So you’re going to stay there, with them, right?”

 

“Until they get sick of me and kick me out,” Steve said, smiling when Bucky crawled into his lap and curled around him.

 

“Never gonna happen,” Bucky whispered, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve wrapped his free arm around Bucky and held him close.

 

“What kind of security do they have there?” Tony asked.

 

“Um, none, as far as I know,” Steve said, puzzled. He whispered to Bucky, “Do they have a security system here?” Bucky shook his head negatively, and Steve said to Tony, “No, nothing.”

 

Tony made a noise that sounded like he was choking. “What’s the address? I’ll be there in a hour,” he said.

 

After checking with Nat that it was okay if Tony came over, Steve passed on the information. “One hour,” Tony said, and he hung up.

 

Clint returned, and after telling him about Maria’s visit, he went with Steve to his place so he could shower and change, pick up some clothes and his laptop, so that he could try to get some work done. When they got back to the townhouse, Tony was just getting out of his car, a fancy Italian model that looked like it might be a prototype. Steve slung his backpack over his shoulder as Tony approached.

 

“Holy shit,” Clint murmured.

 

“Steve, how are you?” Tony asked, giving him a hug.

 

“I’m fine, Tony,” he said, showing him his bruised right hand. “I’ve definitely had worse.”

 

Tony looked at it closely, nodding. “And how’s your Boo?” he asked quietly.

 

“Bruised arm, shaken as hell,” Steve replied, swallowing hard. He cleared his throat. “So, Tony, this is Clint Barton, Bucky’s friend and the owner of the house. Clint, this is one of my oldest and dearest friends, Tony Stark.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Clint,” Tony said, shaking his hand.

 

“Um, yeah, back at ya,” Clint said, his eyes a little wide.

 

“So Steve, I’ve got some stuff in the car,” he said, walking back to his insanely expensive-looking automobile and opening the passenger door. “Take these,” he said, handing him three roughly shoebox-sized boxes.

 

“What’s this?” Steve asked.

 

“Let’s get inside and I’ll show you,” Tony said.

 

Clint let them in and they walked into the living room. Nat and Bucky were in the kitchen and looked up as the trio came inside. When Steve set the boxes down on the kitchen table and set his backpack on the chair, Bucky was in his arms immediately, hugging him. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said quietly. “I was worried.”

 

“We’re fine, baby,” Steve replied, tucking him under his chin. “He doesn’t even know who I am, so nothing’s happening at my place.” He kissed him on the head. “Tony’s here. You remember Tony, right?”

 

“Of course, he does,” Tony said, looking offended for a whole second before smiling. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Bucky, winking at him. Bucky smiled back, blushing.

 

“Quit it,” Steve growled good-naturedly. “Tony, this is Natasha Barton,” he said, gesturing to the redhead. “Nat, this is Tony Stark.”

 

Tony reached over to shake her hand. “You’re the pastry chef? Red Room Pastries?” he asked.

 

“Yes, I am,” Nat said, her eyebrows arching.

 

“Those are the best fucking things I have ever had in my life,” Tony said, completely straight-faced. “Do you do events? Because I would love to book you for my holiday party.”

 

“Um, yeah,” she said, surprised. “I just need about three week's advanced notice.”

 

“Excellent,” he grinned, and then he clapped his hands together. “Alright, then, let’s get to it. In these boxes,” he said, taking the topmost box and setting it on the table, flipping the lid open, “is a completely wireless security system. Steve and I will install it and I’ll show you how to use it.”

 

“Uh, this looks pretty expensive,” Nat said, looking at the clearly high-end StarkTech equipment.

 

“Not for you, it’s not,” Tony said firmly. “Equipment and installation are free of charge and don’t even try to argue with me, because I won’t listen.”

 

“He really won’t,” Steve interjected, shaking his head.

 

“You all are important to Steve, so you’re important to me,” Tony said, laying the equipment out on the table. “Some asshole just came after my best friend’s sweetheart, and that is not okay. At all.”

 

Steve just smiled, being accustomed to the way Tony’s heart and mind worked.

 

Tony asked about the layout of the house, quickly sketching a rough blueprint of each floor. He then indicated the best places to put the touchscreens, cameras, and sensors. Then he and Steve went though the house, inside and out, setting the equipment in place.

 

When they were done, Tony had each of them install an app on their phones, as well as their computers. He set the codes for the equipment in a master file, which they all imported, and had them do palm- and finger-scans to use instead of a passcode. Lastly, he brought up their system on their phones and showed them how to look outside without opening the door, how to set and disarm the system, and how to call for help if they needed to.

 

“If, for some reason, you don’t have your phone and can’t physically get to a touchscreen, all you have to say is ‘JARVIS,’ and it will switch to voice recognition,” Tony said.

 

“’JARVIS’?” Bucky asked, fascinated.

 

“It stands for ‘Just A Really Very Intelligent System’,” Tony smiled. “Also, the butler I grew up with was named Edwin Jarvis. I’m occasionally sentimental.” He fired up the system and called out, “JARVIS!”

 

“Yes, Mister Stark?” a very British-sounding man’s voice responded from the touchscreen by the front door.

 

“Holy crap,” Bucky said, his eyes wide. “That is so cool.”

 

Tony had them add their voices to JARVIS’s memory, so that he would respond to them when they called.

 

“Here,” Tony said, handing them each a small index card, “is the super-easy cheat sheet on how to use the system. It is really quite simple once you’re used to it, and you can also ask JARVIS if you forget. He’ll walk you through it.”

 

“This is really nice of you, Tony, thank you,” Bucky said softly. He was again curled around Steve, his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist.

 

Tony shrugged off the compliment, his eyes instead focusing on the tattoo that was peeking out from underneath the sleeve of Bucky’s shirt. “Speaking of nice,” he said, nodding to Bucky’s arm, “that’s some pretty sweet ink you’ve got there.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said, his cheeks reddening, “thanks.”

 

“God, the blushing is going to kill me,” Tony smirked, and then he looked at Bucky’s arm again. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to his arm. When Bucky nodded hesitantly and pulled his sleeve up, Tony whistled. “This is gorgeous. Local artist?”

 

“Yeah, Wanda Maximoff. She’s got a shop in the Heights, just off Court Street,” Bucky said.

 

“That’s really impressive,” Tony said. “I should give her a call.”

 

“For?” Steve asked, dragging out the question with a wicked grin.

 

“Shut it, blondie,” Tony growled. Steve snickered. “Anyway,” Tony said to Bucky, “do you have Wanda’s number?”

 

After Bucky gave Tony her contact information, he reminded Steve and Bucky to call if they needed anything, and then he was off.

 

As soon as he was out the door, Nat smacked Steve on the arm. He yelped, startled. “Your friend Tony is _Tony Stark?_ ” she screeched.

 

“Yeah, didn’t I mention that?” Steve asked, rubbing his arm. “Ow, by the way.”

 

“No, you most definitely did not,” Clint laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“What am I missing?” Bucky asked, looking confused. “You guys know Tony?” he asked Nat and Clint.

 

“Tony _Stark,_ ” Nat said in exasperation, “as in StarkTech. The top-of-the-Fortune-500-every-year StarkTech.”

 

Bucky frowned for a second, then looked at Steve, totally bewildered. “Tony is StarkTech?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, shrugging. “Sorry. I tend to forget.”

 

“Huh,” Bucky said, quirking an eyebrow. “He’s funnier than I would have imagined. Flirtier, too.”

 

Steve chuckled. “He’s a horrible flirt—and I mean _literally_ horrible. Don’t worry about it, though; he’s got a girlfriend that he absolutely loves. Pepper—you’ll like her.”

 

The rest of the day passed quietly. Maria called during the afternoon to let them know that Rollins was not at his home, and that neither he nor Rumlow had shown up at either residence. “I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to Alexander Pierce, since they both work for him?” Steve asked.

 

“He’s been unavailable all day,” Maria said, and Steve could hear the frustration in her voice. “We’re trying.”

 

“I understand,” Steve said. “We’re fine here. Tony came by and put in a security system.”

 

“Of course he did,” Maria chuckled. “We’ll keep you updated, I promise.”

 

“Thanks, Maria,” Steve said.

 

Steve stayed at Bucky’s that night and the next day, and there was still no sign of either Rumlow or Rollins. Steve went home that night to get some more clothes, fully intending to go into the office, to check in at the very least, on Wednesday. Bucky was feeling better, despite the fact that Rumlow was still on the loose, and planned to go to the bookstore with Clint, just to help with deliveries—it wasn’t like they needed to worry about Brock showing up.

 

They went to sleep Tuesday night, actually drifting off easier than they had in several nights.

 

At just after two-fifteen in the morning, Steve’s phone started blaring, a loud and annoying sound that Steve had never heard before. “What the hell?” he asked, irritated that he’d been awakened.

 

“Whazzit?” Bucky asked, blearily, looking around.

 

“I’m sorry, baby, my phone is freaking out,” Steve said, reaching for the device to stop the noise. He looked at the screen, searching for the ‘OFF’ button, when the large red words he was reading finally registered in his brain. “Oh, fuck,” Steve breathed, jumping up and searching for his clothes.

 

Bucky switched on the bedside lamp. “What are you doing, Steve? What happened?” he asked, only half-awake and totally confused.

 

Steve was pulling his clothes on, moving quickly. “My office is on fire.”

 

***

 

Due to the lateness of the hour, traffic was minimal; Steve and Bucky arrived at the SHIELD offices in less than thirty minutes. Steve had tried to get Bucky to stay home, where he was safe. “I’m safest with you,” Bucky had argued, pulling on his clothes as fast as possible. They’d left a note for Nat and Clint and raced out the door, making sure to set the alarm again as they left.

 

Bucky had called Sam, Peggy, and Tony as Steve drove. Only Tony answered; Bucky left voicemail messages for Sam and Peggy. Tony, as he was the owner of the building and had also received a phone alert, said he was already on his way to the office and that he would meet them there. Bucky then called the 79th and 84th Precinct stations to leave messages for Maria and Detective Coulson.

 

Steve turned on to Charlton Street, where his office was located, to see numerous fire trucks and police cars already there. “Shit,” he sighed, looking worried.

 

“It’ll be okay, Steve,” Bucky said, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder.

 

They parked about half a block away and walked quickly to where the police had taped the area off. Tony was already there, fully dressed and looking like he’d been out at dinner at two in the morning, which Steve knew was entirely possible. “Hey,” Steve said, clearly about to panic.

 

“Steve, sugar-bear,” Tony said, putting his hands on Steve’s chest, “stay calm.”

 

“But,” Steve said, gesturing concernedly to the glass doors to the office, which they could see were shattered, sparkling glass shards littering the sidewalk.

 

“I’ve already called my insurance agent, he’s on his way,” Tony said. “The burglar alarm and the fire suppression system worked just like they were supposed to, so damage should be minimal. The fire was already out by the time the fire trucks got here—they’re just checking out the building, making sure it’s safe.”

 

“Burglar alarm?” Bucky asked. “Does that automatically go off when the fire system is activated?”

 

“Clever boy,” Tony said, winking at Bucky. “Yes, it does, but only when the fire happens first.”

 

“The burglar alarms went off first?” Steve asked, his eyes getting wide.

 

“They did,” Tony nodded. “Someone broke in the back door, setting off the alarms. The fire suppression system went off a few minutes later, just as the police were pulling up.”

 

“So someone broke in and started a fire,” Bucky said, clenching his jaw.

 

“Looks that way,” Tony said.

 

“You know who this was, Steve,” Bucky said, looking at the ground.

 

“Rumlow doesn’t even know who I am,” Steve said. “How would he know where my office is?”

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, shaking his head. “I just have an awful feeling that this is payback.”

 

A police officer came over to join them at this point, introducing himself as Detective Cameron Klein with the 1st Precinct, and began asking questions: Were they the owners of the building, what kind of equipment was inside, were there any toxic substances stored on the premises, what kind of security did they have. Between Steve and Tony, they were able to answer everything the officer asked.

 

“Anyone you can think of who might have something against you?” the detective asked.

 

Both Steve and Bucky snorted. “Yes, unfortunately,” Steve said. “Several people, actually.” They told the detective about Rumlow and Alexander Pierce, explaining why the two would hold grudges against them.

 

When Steve’s phone rang, he and Tony were still answering questions, so Bucky said he would answer it. “Thank you, baby,” Steve said, handing the device over. It was Maria.

 

“Hey, Maria, it’s Bucky,” he said, taking a few steps away. “Thanks for calling back.”

 

“Bucky? It’s three-thirty in the morning! What the hell happened?” she asked.

 

“Steve and I are at his office. Tony’s here, too. Looks like someone broke in and tried to burn the place down,” he said, sighing and rubbing his face.

 

“Holy shit,” she said angrily. “Was anyone hurt?”

 

“Don’t think so,” Bucky said, looking around. “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone inside and there’s no ambulance here.”

 

“Who’s the Detective in charge?” she asked, and Bucky could hear her shuffling papers around.

 

“Says his name is Calvin—no, sorry, Cameron Klein,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I’m a little loopy. He’s with the 1st Precinct.”

 

“Got it,” she said. “Is he there? Can I talk to him real quick?”

 

“Yeah, he’s talking to Steve and Tony,” he replied. “Hold on, let me see if I can interrupt.” He walked over to rejoin the group. “Maria would like to talk to him, if that’s okay.”

 

“Maria?” the detective asked, his eyebrows arching.

 

“Sorry, Detective Maria Hill, with the…84th Precinct? Is that right?” Bucky asked, rubbing his eyes. The smoke in the air was making them itchy.

 

So Detective Klein spoke to Maria for a few minutes, asking and answering questions and taking notes. “So you’ll get me what you have on Rumlow and Rollins?” Klein asked. “Great, thanks.” He handed the phone back to Bucky. “Here you go. Thanks for the info.”

 

Bucky took the phone back, nodding. “Sure.” He put the phone back up to his ear. “Maria? You still there?”

 

“Yeah, sweetie,” she said.

 

“I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here, but I’m staying with Steve, regardless,” Bucky said.

 

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else,” Maria said. “I’m glad Steve has you.”

 

Bucky turned, and Steve was motioning to him. “Hold on, I think Steve wants to talk to you, too.”

 

Steve took the phone, giving Bucky a shaky smile. “Hey, Maria,” he said, and Bucky could hear that he was trying to keep it together. “Tony’s insurance guy and workmen are already here, so they’re going to make sure the doors are secured. The locks on the front door are still working, so they’re going to board those up, but the back door has been damaged and will need to be replaced. Tony wants us to come back to his place, since it’s closer, so Bucky and I will head over there when we’re done here tonight, um, this morning, I mean.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” Maria said. “Try to sleep, come back during daylight hours.”

 

“Don’t know how much sleeping will be happening,” Steve sighed, “but we’ll be back when it’s light out.”

 

Once everything was settled, and the police and fire deemed that the fire was completely out and the building safe to enter, the workmen shut everything up and Steve and Tony made arrangements with the police detective, insurance agent, and workmen to meet at mid-morning, when it would be light enough to see easily.

 

Steve and Bucky followed Tony in Steve’s car. They were quiet, both of them exhausted, but Bucky could see, beyond the fatigue, that Steve was devastated. “Everything will be alright, Stevie,” Bucky said softly. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

 

“Thanks, baby,” he replied, smiling sadly. “I just can’t believe that it’s—“ he cleared his throat roughly.

 

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Bucky tried to reassure him. “Tony says the suppression system worked just like it was supposed to, so it may not be as bad as you’re thinking.”

 

Steve nodded at him, as they pulled into the Stark Tower underground garage behind Tony’s car. They parked in a residential spot, and Tony waited by his car for them. “Your suite is ready,” Tony said to Steve, “and I’ve made sure that there are clothes in both of your sizes for you in there as well.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, wow,” he said, surprised. “You didn’t need to do that, but thank you.”

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Steve said with a tired little half-smile, tucking Bucky into his side. “This is how Tony expresses his affection for his friends.”

 

“You have a suite here,” Bucky said flatly.

 

“Real estate is reserved for only my nearest and dearest,” Tony smirked, turning and walking to the private elevator. They entered the elevator and the doors shut. “JARVIS?” Tony said.

 

“Yes, Mister Stark?” the same British-sounding man’s voice responded. Bucky’s eyes flew up and looked around.

 

“Would you please add James Barnes to the list of people with access to this elevator and Steve Rogers’ suite, please?” he said, winking at Bucky’s wide-eyed expression.

 

“Certainly, sir,” the voice replied.

 

“Is that the same guy as the security system?” Bucky asked, pointing vaguely in the direction of the elevator ceiling.

 

“This JARVIS is my personal A.I.,” Tony said. “He runs all the security in the building. If you need anything while you’re here, just ask him and the staff will get it to you.”

 

“That’s really not necessary,” Bucky tried to protest. “A couch to sack out on for a couple of hours and a toothbrush is more than fine, really.”

 

Steve chuckled tiredly and tugged Bucky close, kissing his head.

 

Tony looked at him in genuine amazement. “Holy crap, Steve, could you have found anyone more perfectly wonderful?” The elevator came to a stop. “Here’s your floor. Remember, Sweet Baby James, you need anything at all, ask JARVIS.”

 

The doors opened and Steve and Bucky wandered out. “We’ll see you at ten?” Steve asked.

 

“My floor, ten a.m.,” Tony said, nodding. “Try to get some sleep, guys.”

 

“Thanks. You, too,” Steve said, taking Bucky’s hand and heading for one of three doors in the vestibule.

 

Tony saluted them as the elevator doors slid shut.

 

Steve opened the door and ushered Bucky inside. The lights automatically turned on, and Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded him on three sides, the city laid out before them from what Bucky thought might be up around the twentieth floor; dark hardwood floors stretched throughout, from a comfortable living area at the left end, to the dining area in front of them, to the fully-appointed and rather expensive-looking kitchen at the right end.

 

The walls, the few of them there were, anyway, were a creamy white. The furniture was also dark wood, the area rugs were off-white with dark grey borders, and the upholstery was a lighter grey with slate blue accents.

 

It was very sophisticated, and very upscale, and didn’t really feel like Steve at all. “You don’t stay here often, do you?” Bucky asked, looking around.

 

Steve smiled. “No,” he said, taking Bucky’s hand and leading him toward the kitchen. Around the corner to the right was a short hallway that led to a bedroom decorated in the same fashion, except the walls were a dark blue-grey. “I like my place,” he shrugged, “so even though Tony insists on giving me—and Sam and Peggy—our own suites here in the Tower, I told him not to bother changing the décor for me.”

 

“I like your place, too,” Bucky said, following Steve into the bedroom. The attached en suite was luxurious, all done in dark woods, dark blues, grey stone and quartz. “It feels like you, all cuddly and cozy.”

 

Steve sat on the bed, his shoulders drooped and his head hanging. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

 

Bucky knelt in front of him and started untying his shoes. “It’s going to be okay, Stevie,” he said softly. He set Steve’s shoes at the end of the bed and then slid his socks off his feet, leaving them by the shoes. “We’ll all help. You’re not alone in this.”

 

Steve spread his knees and Bucky shuffled forward into Steve’s arms, holding him close. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

Bucky rubbed his back slowly. “You’ve got it backwards, Stevie, but I’ll let it slide this time,” he smiled, sitting back on his heels. “Now get undressed and lay down,” he said. “I’m giving you a back rub.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, baby,” Steve said. “You’ve got to be exhausted, too.”

 

“I want to,” Bucky said, getting to his feet and kicking his shoes off. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

 

Steve smiled at him, tired and sad. “Okay,” he relented, standing up. Bucky turned the sheets down, and a minute later, Steve was stretched out on his stomach, dressed only in his boxer briefs, hugging a pillow to his face.

 

Once he was also stripped down to his briefs, Bucky straddled Steve’s upper thighs, slowly dragging his fingertips down Steve’s back from his neck to his waist, waiting until he relaxed. When he finally saw Steve’s trapezius muscles start to unclench, he began to massage his neck and shoulders. Steve sighed as Bucky worked on his back, letting his boyfriend soothe the tension that had tightened his muscles into hard knots.

 

Bucky worked up and down his spine, pressing his thumbs into the hard flesh, smiling to himself as the muscles loosened up. He could hear Steve’s breathing evening out, could see the crease between his eyebrows slowly go away, and he could feel Steve relaxing under his hands.

 

Thirty or so minutes later, Steve was asleep, finally succumbing to exhaustion. Bucky got off the bed and snuck out to the kitchen, where he found bottled water in the refrigerator. He grabbed two, and was about to go back to the bedroom when he paused and whispered, “JARVIS?”

 

“Yes, Mister Barnes?” the A.I. responded quietly.

 

Bucky shook his head. _So cool,_ he thought. “I noticed there are no curtains on the bedroom windows,” he said. “Will it be dark enough in there for Steve to sleep?”

 

“Whenever someone is sleeping, the windows will automatically polarize so that the room remains dim, Mister Barnes,” he replied.

 

“Awesome,” Bucky said. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

 

“You are quite welcome, Mister Barnes.”

 

Bucky went back to the bedroom and set a bottle of water on Steve’s bedside table, then walked around to the other side, drinking half of his water along the way. Once he was no longer thirsty, he put the cap back on and set it down, then slid onto the bed, trying his best not to disturb Steve. He pulled the sheets over the both of them, and then he lay down, hoping to get at least a couple hours of sleep.

 

***

 

The next thing Bucky knew, soft, warm kisses were being pressed to the back of his neck and shoulder, and a strong arm was wrapped around his waist. The soft-yet-wiry whiskers of Steve’s beard tickled his shoulder blade, and he could feel the vibration through Steve’s chest, which was pressed against his back, when Steve hummed sleepily.

 

“Hey, baby boy,” Steve whispered. He flattened his hand on Bucky’s chest, feeling the steady beat of Bucky’s heart under his palm. His fingers traced along Bucky’s collarbone, and his thumb settled in the hollow between. “We need to get up soon. Did you get any sleep?”

 

“Yeah, a few hours, I guess,” Bucky sighed, enjoying the warmth and comfort of Steve’s body. “I put some water on the night stand for you.”

 

“I found that, thank you, sweetheart,” he purred. “You took such good care of me. That was so nice of you, baby.”

 

“Even Daddies need to be taken care of sometimes,” Bucky said, hugging Steve’s arm close.

 

“You’re such a sweet boy,” Steve said, holding him tight.

 

“You’re the best,” Bucky replied. He yawned widely then, covering his mouth and most of his face with his hand. “How much time do we have?” he asked sleepily.

 

“We need to meet Tony in about twenty minutes,” Steve said. “We have time to get something to eat, and I need to call Peter to let him know what’s happening. Shit,” he gasped, sitting up suddenly. “I have to call everyone.”

 

“If I may, Mister Rogers,” JARVIS interrupted, and Bucky jumped, pulling the sheet up over his chest, as if he thought someone had entered the room.

 

Steve put a calming hand on Bucky’s hip. “You’ll get used to it, I swear,” he said. “Yes, JARVIS, what is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Mister Stark took the liberty of requesting that I send an emergency text message to everyone in your employ. They have been notified of the fire and were told to stay at home today, awaiting further message.”

 

Steve fell back against his pillow. “Thank you, god.”

 

“I appreciate your faith in me, Mister Rogers, but please, call me JARVIS.”

 

Bucky burst out laughing, his head thrown back. Steve turned his head to look at him, eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh, you think that’s funny?” he asked, sitting up and turning, blanketing Bucky with his body. He started nibbling at Bucky’s neck, the younger man squealing and giggling underneath him. After a minute or so, Steve picked his head up and looked at Bucky’s flushed, smiling face. “Wish we didn’t have to get up yet,” he murmured, kissing Bucky’s plush, soft lips.

 

“Me, too,” Bucky said, running his hands up Steve’s sides. “But we need to get food and go meet Tony. I do need to call Nat to let her know we’re okay, and Nick, to tell him I won’t be in today. And you need to call Sam.”

 

“Yeah, I should.” They reluctantly parted and got out of bed. Steve walked into the closet and pulled out some clothes for himself, saying, “I think all of that is for you, baby.” He was pointing to the opposite side of the closet, where Bucky found, essentially, a full wardrobe of clothes in his size.

 

“What the hell?” Bucky asked, looking at a dozen or more pairs of pants, shirts, jackets, shoes—anything he could need—with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Is Tony serious?”

 

“This is what Tony does,” Steve said, nodding. “He doesn’t have any other family, so he holds the people that are important to him very close.”

 

“But he doesn’t even know me. Not really,” Bucky said, still astounded at what was clearly thousands of dollars worth of clothing that Tony had provided without batting an eyelash.

 

“He knows enough,” Steve said, coming over to hug Bucky. “He’s a very good judge of character, and he can see how much I care about you and how happy you’ve made me.”

 

“Really?” Bucky asked, smiling shyly, nuzzling into Steve’s arms.

 

“Really,” Steve said, kissing his head. “Now go ahead and get dressed.” He walked back into the bedroom and set his clothes on the bed, stepping into the bathroom for a moment.

 

Bucky looked through a dresser, finding socks, underwear, and cotton t-shirts. He picked out what he needed, along with some jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of heavier black leather shoes, carrying everything out to the bedroom. Steve came out of the bathroom, his hair combed and face washed.

 

“I’ll go fix us something quick to eat, okay, Buck?” he said, quickly changing into fresh clothes and leaving for the kitchen, giving Bucky another kiss as he walked out the door.

 

Bucky ducked into the bathroom as well, scrubbing his face, brushing his hair, and rinsing his mouth before putting on the new clothes—that all fit perfectly, right down to the shoes. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or creeped out,” he said to Steve as he walked into the kitchen, pulling his hair back into a ponytail and securing it with a hair tie that he found in the bathroom.

 

Steve looked him up and down, smiling. “Personally, I’m grateful,” he said, scooping some eggs onto a plate and sliding it across the grey quartz countertop toward Bucky. “You look great.”

 

Bucky blushed, smirking at Steve. “You do, too. Tony has good taste.” The blue pullover that Steve wore made his eyes practically glow, and the jeans hugged every muscle in Steve’s thighs. He sat down and ate with Steve, who sat next to him, a simple breakfast of eggs, toast, and juice, calling their friends as they ate.

 

At ten o’clock, they got in the elevator and Steve said, “Hi, JARVIS, could you take us to Tony, please?”

 

“Certainly, Mister Rogers,” JARVIS replied. A few seconds later, the doors opened directly into an entryway, clearly part of Tony’s suite.

 

“Morning, guys!” Tony said, waving to them from the kitchen. “Have you had any breakfast? Coffee?”

 

“I’ll take some coffee,” Steve said, taking Bucky’s hand and walking over to join Tony. “You want some, Buck?”

 

“Yes, please,” he said, sitting next to Tony. He cleared his throat a little nervously and said, “Um, thank you for the clothes, Tony.”

 

Tony waved him off. “Not a problem, Buckerino. Everything fit okay?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky said, laughing. “Do I even want to know how you knew my size?”

 

Tony merely looked at him and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Bucky continued to laugh, shaking his head. “Steve was right. You really are a terrible flirt.”

 

“He is,” a woman’s voice said, and Bucky turned to see a tall, willowy woman with strawberry blonde hair. “You must be Bucky,” she smiled, approaching him with her hand extended. “I’m Pepper.”

 

“Yes, hi,” Bucky said, standing and shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, though I wish the circumstances were different,” she said. She looked at Steve, who was coming over with a cup of coffee in each hand.

 

When he set them down, he turned and gave Pepper a hug. “Hi, Pepper,” Steve said. “You’re looking well.”

 

“So are you, Steve,” she smiled. “I can see why you’ve been keeping this young man all to yourself, he’s absolutely lovely.”

 

Bucky tried to hide his smile behind his coffee cup, but there was no way to hide his pink cheeks.

 

“He is,” Steve agreed, snaking an arm around Bucky’s midsection and giving him a little squeeze. “Kept me from having a complete meltdown last night—well, earlier today, actually.” He turned to Tony. “Thanks for having JARVIS message everyone.”

 

“No sweat, Rogers,” he said, scrolling on his tablet. “Before we head to the office, we have an appointment with Detective Klein at the station.”

 

“Oh?” Steve asked, drinking some coffee.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Tony said, nodding. “I have some interesting security footage he’ll want to take a look at.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS will always be one of my favorites. He is the sassiest. XD
> 
> Thanks for everyone who has left kudos and comments! I love these characters, and it gives me the warm fuzzies when others tell me that they love them just as much. :D


	13. But That's Nothing to Do With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, everyone!
> 
> Some investigative work, some clean-up, a little bit of smut (a smidge, if you will), and a bunch of feels. And an unexpectedly weird visit. Lots going on in this chapter!

 

Tony, Steve, and Bucky walked in the front doors of the 1st Precinct police station and made their way to the front desk. “Good morning!” Tony chirped, far too lively for someone who probably got less than four hours of sleep. The case containing his laptop swung happily at his side.

 

The officer manning the desk looked at Tony with a mixture of confusion and disbelief; Tony was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt with a bright purple lightning bolt across the front, black leather jacket, and designer sunglasses. There was no doubt that the officer recognized him—he just couldn’t believe Tony was there. “Good morning,” he finally responded. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I’m Tony Stark, and my friends and I have an appointment with Detective Klein,” Tony said politely.

 

The officer called the detective, who met them about a minute later. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, waving them back. “I have a conference room set aside for us to talk.” He walked into a room with a long, rectangular table and about a dozen chairs, closing the door behind them.

 

“As I mentioned over the phone, I have some footage we should look at,” Tony said, patting the case he was holding. He set it down on the table and popped it open, revealing a ruggedized laptop keyboard and screen. He turned the power on and booted it up, going into a file with the saved footage. “There are security cameras inside the SHIELD office and out,” Tony said, splitting the screen into four quarters. All of the time stamps were synchronized, showing outside the front doors of the office, outside the back door, and front and back inside the office. “And here we go,” Tony said, pressing the ‘Play’ symbol on his touch-screen. Everyone sat at the table, watching as the high-definition footage started to run.

 

For several seconds, everything was calm. Then in the frame showing the back door, a simple white van drove up, stopping right outside. A man, dressed completely in black and rolling a black facemask down over his nose and mouth, got out on the passenger side and walked over to the back door. “Can you back that up and pause it when he comes around the front of the van, before he pulls the facemask all the way down?” Bucky asked.

 

“Sure,” Tony said, pressing the screen.

 

The video reversed and stopped, and Bucky leaned forward, squinting at the image of the man pulling the balaclava over his face. “What does that look like to you, Stevie?” he asked, pointing at a shadowed area of jawline just visible under the facemask.

 

Steve looked at it closely. “That could be bruising,” he said quietly, nodding. He sighed as he sat back. “You might be right about it being Rumlow. I just don’t know how the hell he would have known who I am or where my office is.”

 

“He knew you were ‘the new boyfriend’ when you punched him,” Bucky reminded him.

 

“You think he’s been watching you two?” Tony asked, frowning.

 

“Maybe at my work?” Bucky suggested, giving a half-shrug. God, the thought of Brock watching them together made him feel ill. Steve took his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

 

“We’ll have someone look closer at that shadowing,” the detective said, making a note.

 

Tony restarted the footage. The man on the recording looked above the door and paused, then walked to the back of the van and opened a door. He came back with a crowbar, which he used to reach up and smash something on the wall.

 

“What is he doing?” Bucky asked quietly.

 

“Destroying the decoy camera,” Tony smirked. “It sits on the wall with a little blinking red light, doesn’t actually do anything. He can’t even see this camera. It looks like a bolt on the light fixture.”

 

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky whispered, shaking his head. “You are totally fucking brilliant, aren’t you?”

 

“Don’t tell me you doubted me, Buck-a-boo,” he teased, pretending to look hurt.

 

“Never again, that’s for sure,” he joked, nudging his shoulder.

 

Turning back to the security video, they watched as the man, confident that he’d disabled their camera, began to pry the back door open. It took him a couple of minutes, which Tony fast-forwarded through, but he finally was able to distort the door and doorjamb enough to cram the crowbar in and break the bolt away.

 

“That’s when the burglar alarm went off,” Tony said, pointing at the time stamp.

 

Once inside, another similarly-dressed man from the van joined him, the driver still in the vehicle. The two men walked inside, and the indoor cameras picked them up as they walked by the employee restrooms, the printer room, the break area, and the conference room. They approached the cubicles, slowing down noticeably, looking at the name plaques on the cubicle walls.

 

“They’re looking for something,” the detective said. Tony nodded.

 

“Aaaand he just found it,” Tony said, pointing to the screen.

 

One of the two men stopped outside Steve’s super-cube, pointing at the name plaque. The intruders then went inside and grabbed Steve’s computer, ripping the cables from the CPU and carrying it out to the van.

 

“What the hell?” Steve said, frowning in utter confusion.

 

“They’re not done yet,” Tony said, leaning back.

 

The two men came back in, next going to Sam’s cubicle and taking his computer.

 

“How many people know that Sam is your lawyer?” Tony asked, arching his eyebrows.

 

“Not many,” Steve said through clenched teeth. “Alexander Pierce sure knows.”

 

“Mister Pierce was at a high-profile event in D.C. last night, so his assistant tells me,” Klein said. Steve, Bucky, and Tony simultaneously snorted in derision.

 

The two men came back one more time, running through the office, taking one more computer (“My continuity editor?” Steve asked, bewildered) and heading again for the back door. Before leaving, the men threw several handfuls of small items into the office, one each into Steve and Sam’s cubicles, the others scattered across the rest of the space. They both got back in the van, and then drove away.

 

“There,” the detective said, pointing at the van driving away. Tony paused the video, zooming in on what Klein was pointing at. “Rental sticker, no license plate,” he said, writing down the name of the company. Tony restarted the video.

 

A few seconds after they left, the items they threw began to explode. Smaller bursts followed by bigger flashes that knocked out the interior cameras. “I’ll need to toughen those up,” Tony murmured, annoyed.

 

The exterior camera by the front door showed the glass in the doors shattering in a flash of light, blown outward by the incendiary devices. Only the exterior cameras were still working at this point, and the glow from the fire burning inside was visible for several minutes, which Tony again fast-forwarded through as Steve covered his mouth, only his eyes showing how upset he truly was, until the light dimmed and disappeared, just after the first police cars pulled up outside.

 

“And that wraps up movie time,” Tony said, stopping the video. “The fire trucks showed up just a couple of minutes later.”

 

“I’ll need a copy of that.” Detective Klein said. Tony produced a thumb drive from a jacket pocket and handed it over. “Thanks,” he said, pulling an evidence bag from his own pocket and labeling it, slipping the thumb drive inside. “So the fire was set to cover up a robbery,” he said, writing on the outside of the bag.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice rough. He was leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. Bucky sat close by, his arms wrapped around him, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“If they’re trying to get whatever they think is on those hard drives, they’re in for a surprise,” Tony snorted.

 

“How so?” Bucky asked.

 

“Those hard drives are heavily encrypted; so much so, that repeated attempts at decryption will actually cause an attack on the person trying to break into it,” he laughed. “They’ll only end up destroying their own equipment _and_ we’ll be able to track them as it happens.”

 

“What’s on those drives?” Detective Klein asked.

 

“That’s the best part,” Tony giggled. “ _Nothing._ Everything is saved off-site on a highly secure, cloud-based server. They won’t get anything but static.” He looked pointedly at Steve. “We didn’t lose anything except office furniture, some equipment, and a few personal items, most of which can be replaced, okay? Peggy is getting all the insurance straightened out as we speak so that there are no hold-ups in the repairs and you can get back in the office ASAP. In the meantime, you can work from home or at the Tower, and everything can still be printed and released on time.” Steve sighed and nodded, and Tony slapped him on the knee. “Now let’s get to it.”

 

“I need to call the arson investigators,” Klein said, “have them meet us at the office.” He finished making his notes, then stood up. “Ready to go?”

 

***

 

They waited outside while the arson investigators took pictures and collected evidence—including all the bits and pieces of the incendiary devices they could find—and took carpet samples, cutting the flooring apart and placing the pieces in evidence bags. Detective Klein and the insurance agent followed them around, making notes of the damage. “Whatever they threw in here, it first spread an accelerant, then it detonated,” one of the investigators told Steve, Bucky, and Tony as they stood at the front doors. “The fire suppression system did an amazing job knocking it down before it could spread.”

 

“Pressurized carbon dioxide,” Tony said, pointing toward the ceiling, where several dozen nozzles poked through. “Chokes the fire out without damaging the equipment.”

 

As they waited, Tony’s workmen showed up. They gave the three men gloves, respirators, safety glasses, and hard hats. “Be careful in there, okay?” Steve said quietly to Bucky. “Don’t do anything that’s going to hurt your shoulder?”

 

“I’ll be fine, Stevie,” Bucky replied softly, kissing him on the cheek. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Steve even more stress. “I won’t overdo it, I promise.”

 

Steve nodded at him, giving him a sad smile. “Thank you, baby.”

 

When the investigators were mostly finished, Detective Klein went back to the police station and Steve, Bucky, and Tony were allowed inside the ruined office.

 

Walking into the wreckage of the SHIELD Publications offices was one of the most emotionally confusing and gut-wrenching moments of Steve’s life. He vacillated between being heartbroken, furious, determined and scared. He held Bucky’s hand tightly as they walked inside, the soles of their heavy shoes crunching on the broken glass.

 

“Alright, gentlemen,” Tony said, trying to stay calm as they looked around. It definitely looked like multiple small bombs had gone off; blackened areas of the floor, walls, and ceiling showed where the devices had gone off and fires had burned, however briefly. Cubicle walls were blasted apart, desks were overturned, furniture and equipment were thrown around, and most of the artwork on the walls was heavily damaged or destroyed. “Let’s start in the front and move toward the back. We’ll empty all the drawers that are still closed, box up everything that’s still intact, any paperwork or personal items we find, we have a truck outside for all of the trashed electronic equipment, and the workers can take the rest, just clean the place out, okay?”

 

Steve nodded, his throat too tight to speak. “I’m right here, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, squeezing his hand through their gloves. Steve nodded again, clearing his throat.

 

“Okay,” he said, and while his voice was rough, there was strength there, too. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

 

The workers brought in dozens of banker’s boxes, and the men worked for hours, stopping only briefly for lunch, filling the boxes with everything they could find that was intact or could possibly be repaired. Like an archaeological dig, they created a grid of the office, marking the boxes with the grid area in which the items inside were found, hopefully making it easier for the employees to find their belongings. Sam arrived after lunch, rolling up his sleeves and helping out as much as he could.

 

The work crew also brought in a dumpster, tossing out heavily damaged and destroyed items and furniture, after clearing it with the arson investigator who stayed on the scene, looking for anything unusual. Embedded in a cubicle wall, they found an intact detonator, which the investigator was happy to get. “Not often that you find one,” he said, boxing it carefully. “We’ll learn a lot from this.”

 

It was slow going, but eventually they made it back to Sam and Steve’s cubicles, which were nearly completely destroyed. Sam didn’t have any personal items in his area, not that anything would have been salvageable anyway; it was a total loss. Steve’s cubicle was larger and his desk was bigger and heavier; several smaller items survived. A picture of Steve’s mother, though the frame and glass were broken, was saved; he exhaled shakily after finding it. “She’s still here,” he sighed.

 

Unfortunately, much of the original artwork that he had placed around the office was destroyed, and the large SHIELD logo on the wall was damaged. Bucky stood looking at it; the metal was intact, though dented, and the paint was bubbled and peeling in places. “Pietro and Wanda could fix this,” he said to Steve. “I could ask them if you’d like.”

 

“You really think so?” Steve asked, trailing his gloved fingers over the surface, leaving streaks in the black soot.

 

“Absolutely,” Bucky said, nodding. “They do a lot of restoration work. They’re really talented. They can probably even come pick it up.”

 

“That would be wonderful, sweetheart, thank you,” Steve said, a little smile making his eyes crinkle behind the facemask and the safety goggles.

 

“I’ll send them a text right now,” Bucky said, taking off his gloves and getting his phone out of his pocket. Wanda responded quickly, calling Bucky. After telling her what had happened, she offered to come pick up the piece immediately. “Thanks, Wanda,” Bucky said gratefully after giving her the address. “We’ll see you soon.”

 

She arrived in her truck as the workmen were loading the banker’s boxes into a storage container that would be taken to a garage at Stark Tower. Steve’s employees would be able to come get anything they needed, and the rest would be held in a secure location. Workers loaded the metal shield into the back of Wanda’s truck and covered it with a tarp, securing everything down.

 

Bucky followed them out to thank her, and she gave him a kiss on a clean spot on his cheek. “You referred Tony Stark to me,” she smiled broadly. “You could ask for the moon and I would try to get it for you.”

 

Bucky smiled. “Don’t need the moon,” he said, looking at Steve as he carried more boxes out to the storage container. “Just need that guy.”

 

“How is he?” Wanda asked, worried for the man her friend cared so deeply for.

 

“He’s hurting right now, but he’s strong. He’ll be okay,” Bucky said confidently.

 

“Take care of each other, and just know that I am happy to help in any way that I can,” she said, blowing him a kiss as she walked around to her driver’s side door. “I’ll see you later!”

 

By the time the office was completely cleared out, darkness had long since fallen. Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Tony stood outside as the board-covered front doors were locked. “Luckily, the printer room appears to be undamaged,” Tony said, taking off his hard hat and wiping a dirty arm across his forehead, “so we’ll leave that alone for now. We just need to make sure the place is locked up securely every night. Speaking of which, the new back door will be installed tomorrow. The workmen will get it installed—you don’t need to be here.”

 

They arranged for the storage container to be opened for employees the next day. “I’ll make sure they have access to the garage,” Tony said. “I’ll have JARVIS send out a text that they can get in between ten a.m. and five p.m. and have cars pick up anyone that needs a ride.”

 

“I’ll be there, of course,” Steve said. “It’ll give me a chance to talk to everyone, help them find their things.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said. When Steve began to protest, because Bucky did have another job after all, Bucky said, “I usually have Thursdays off anyway, and Nick will understand. I’m staying with you, Stevie.”

 

“I’ll help out, too,” Sam said, nodding.

 

“And I will organize repairs and rebuilding,” Tony said. “So we’re good for tonight?” When everyone nodded, he said, “Steve, Buck, you guys coming back to the Tower?”

 

“I need to go home, check things out,” Steve said. “I haven’t been there in a few days. My plants need watering,” he laughed tiredly.

 

“Happy will drive you guys home,” Tony said, waving to a man standing by a black sedan, and before Steve could resist, he said, “He’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and bring you to the Tower at nine-thirty. You’re too tired to drive, Steve, and your car is at the Tower, anyway.”

 

Steve relented, and he and Bucky said goodnight to the other two men. As they approached the car, Happy opened the door. “Hello, Mister Rogers, Mister Barnes,” he said cheerily.

 

“Hi, Happy,” Steve said. Before getting in, he looked down at himself. “We’re going to get the seats all dirty,” he said.

 

“I covered them,” Happy said. “No worries.”

 

“Oh, good,” Steve sighed, and Bucky could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He climbed in, Bucky following.

 

“Thanks,” he said to Happy. “It’s nice to meet you, Happy.”

 

“Nice to meet you as well, Mister Barnes,” Happy said with a little smile and a nod. Once Bucky was inside, Happy shut the door and got in the driver’s seat.

 

“To your place, Mister Rogers?” Happy asked.

 

“Yes, please,” Steve said, his head falling back onto the heavy fabric covering the leather seats.

 

“And how about you, Mister Barnes?” he asked, pulling out into traffic and heading toward the Manhattan Bridge.

 

“I’m staying with Steve,” he said, smiling when the blond man squeezed his hand. He leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder with a sigh.

 

“You got it,” Happy said, and then he refrained from further conversation, knowing the two men in the back seat were too tired for chit-chat.

 

About half-an-hour later, they pulled up outside Steve’s building. “I’ll be here at nine-thirty tomorrow morning,” Happy said, opening the door for Bucky and Steve to groggily climb out. “Get some sleep, guys,” he said kindly.

 

“Thanks, Happy, see you in the morning,” Steve said, and then he took Bucky’s hand as they walked inside.

 

The doorman looked at them, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. Steve looked down to make sure they weren’t tracking dirt or broken glass across the lobby floor. “Long story,” he said, shaking his head as they trudged to the elevator.

 

“Are you okay, Mister Rogers, Mister Barnes?” he asked, clearly concerned.

 

“We’re fine, Mister Davis,” Steve nodded, “just tired and dirty.”

 

“And hungry,” Bucky added.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be ordering a pizza,” Steve said, letting the doorman know. “When he gets here, you can send him up.”

 

“Certainly, Mister Rogers,” he said. “Have a pleasant evening, sirs.”

 

“Thanks, Mister Davis,” Bucky said, Steve nodding in acknowledgment. The elevator doors slid shut, and as much as they both wanted to lean against the walls, they refrained, not wanting to leave a mess behind.

 

They got out on Steve’s floor and entered his apartment, Steve turning on the lights and dropping his keys and wallet in the bowl by the door. “I’m going to order that pizza, should be here around the time we’re done getting cleaned up,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up the number for his favorite pizza place. Bucky took off his shoes and set them carefully by the door.

 

“I’ll go start the shower,” Bucky said, leaning into Steve for a quick kiss.

 

After Steve got off the phone and removed his own shoes, he walked into the master bath, finding Bucky stripped down to his boxer briefs. His clothes were in a pile on the floor, where he had obviously tried to make as little mess as possible. “I’ll put these in the laundry,” Steve said, scooping up the clothes. “I’ll start the machine after we get out of the shower.”

 

Bucky nodded, pushing his briefs down his hips and placing them on top of the pile in Steve’s arms. “I’m going to get started on my hair,” he said, opening the shower door and stepping in.

 

“Be right back, baby,” Steve said, walking out to the hallway and opening the door to the laundry closet. He opened the washing machine and dropped Bucky’s clothes in, then stripped naked, tossing his clothes into the machine as well. He returned to the bathroom to find Bucky rinsing his hair out.

 

“Might need to wash it twice,” Bucky said, pulling his hair around in front of his face to sniff it. “Still smells smoky.”

 

“Let me help, baby boy,” Steve said, a tired but genuinely adoring smile on his face. He took the shampoo and poured it into his palm, then started working it through Bucky’s thick, gorgeous hair, down to his scalp. Bucky sighed, tipping his head back.

 

“That feels nice,” he said softly. Steve smiled, finally starting to relax. He cleaned Bucky’s hair, all the way to the ends, then turned him around to rinse. When the lather was washed away, Steve smelled his head.

 

“Much better,” he said, reaching for the conditioner and smearing it over Bucky’s hair, combing his fingers through it.

 

Bucky reached for the body wash. “Let’s get you cleaned up, too,” he said pouring a healthy amount into his palm and rubbing it all over Steve’s chest and shoulders. “Start washing your hair,” he said. “You might need to do it twice, too.”

 

Steve did, in fact, need to wash his hair twice to get the smoky smell out of it, and after they were both scrubbed clean and rinsed, they stood, holding each other under the warm spray. “Thank you for staying with me,” Steve said quietly, resting his cheek on Bucky’s wet head.

 

“Always, Stevie,” Bucky replied. He started to say something else, but stopped, a troubled expression on his face.

 

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Steve asked, rubbing his back in long strokes.

 

Bucky took a deep breath. “If this really was Brock,” he said, and his voice hitched. He pressed his forehead against Steve’s throat. “I am so sorry, Steve, I never thought he would come after you.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve said, squeezing him tight. “None of this is your fault. I hope you know that.”

 

“But he’s mad because of me,” Bucky said, and Steve could hear the tears he was holding back.

 

“Rumlow is mad because he’s an asshole,” Steve said, kissing Bucky’s head. “He’s a violent, unstable asshole, and I will do or give anything necessary to keep you safe.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to,” the younger man whispered.

 

“You are more than worth it, baby doll,” Steve replied softly. “You are everything to me.”

 

Bucky hugged him hard. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, Stevie,” he said, sniffling a little.

 

“You deserve all good things,” Steve said. “I’m just the lucky guy you chose to be with.”

 

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Not sure you understand the meaning of the word ‘lucky,’” he said tremulously, the corner of his mouth turning up a little.

 

“Every day I wake up and know that you’re mine and I’m yours, angel face, I know I’m lucky,” Steve whispered. He tipped Bucky’s chin up, kissing him softly. “Now,” he said, reaching for the faucet and turning off the water, “pizza’s going to be here soon, so let’s dry off and put on some jammies, okay?”

 

Bucky smiled, his eyes a little red. “Okay,” he said quietly, leaning in for another kiss. He turned and opened the shower door a bit, reaching for two big, fluffy towels. They dried off, stepping out of the shower into the warm, steamy bathroom.

 

“I’m going to get dressed and start the washer,” Steve said, hanging up his towel and finger-combing his hair, making it stand up in big, damp spikes.

 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Bucky said, still towel-drying his hair.

 

Steve put on his flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt before going into the hallway to turn on the washing machine. Not ten seconds later, the doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here!” Steve called out, walking down the hall to the front door.

 

“Okay,” he heard Bucky respond.

 

Steve reached for the doorknob and turned it, opening the door. “You have great timing,” he said, when suddenly the words died on his lips. He stood there, surprised—shocked, really—to see Sharon standing on the other side. She looked as though she had just come from the office; button-down blouse, black pencil skirt, heels—though she looked somewhat more relaxed, with her sleeves rolled loosely to her elbows and perhaps an extra button or two on her blouse undone.

 

“Well, thank you,” she said, smiling, as if there was nothing strange about her showing up unannounced at his door.

 

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Steve asked, confused.

 

“Oh, Steve,” she sighed sadly, her hand on her chest, over her heart, “I just heard about your office, and I am so, so sorry.”

 

“Really?” Steve asked. “How did you hear about it already?”

 

“Oh, well, you know,” Sharon said, waving her hand around vaguely. “Publishing is a small industry when you know everyone.”

 

Bucky was walking down the hallway toward the living room, but upon hearing voices, he paused, not sure if Steve wanted him to get involved in this conversation.

 

“Um, okay,” Steve said, shaking his head a little. “Anyway, it was nice of you to come by, Sharon, but I was up most of the night, and we’ve been working all day and I’m really tired, so—“

 

“I was wondering what you were going to do, now that everything has been destroyed,” Sharon said, looking over Steve’s shoulder, obviously taking note of the changes he had made since she left.

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, getting more bewildered by the second.

 

Sharon casually brushed past him and walked into the living room. “I mean, now that SHIELD Publications is over, have you considered taking a job with someone else? I know Alexander Pierce is still interested in hiring you.” She looked at the well-worn leather sofa and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

 

Steve froze. “How the hell would you know that Pierce still wants to hire me?”

 

Sharon turned to face him. “Like I said, Steve, publishing is a small industry. Think of this as an opportunity,” she went on. “We can start fresh, leave the unpleasant memories behind, you can have an important position with a big publishing house—“

 

“Why would I ever want to do that?” Steve asked incredulously.

 

“Steve,” Sharon said softly, tilting her head down and looking at him through her lashes, in an attempt to be—what? Persuasive? Seductive? Steve had no clue what she was doing. “We could try again. You and me, together, like it should be,” she said, stepping up to Steve and putting her hand on his chest.

 

Steve moved back quickly, smacking into the wall by the front door. “Sharon, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but—“

 

“But that is _not_ going to happen,” Bucky said, coming around the corner from the hallway into the living room. He leveled her with a hard stare, hands on his hips. “Please keep your hands off my boyfriend.”

 

“Steve?” Sharon asked, looking at Bucky with narrowed eyes. “Who is this and why is he in our home?”

 

“ _’Our home’_?” Steve scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about? This is my home, Sharon, mine and Bucky’s, and I think he made it pretty clear that he is my boyfriend.”

 

“Boyfriend?” Sharon asked, her eyes widened in surprise as her head whipped back to look at Steve. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

 

“Bucky and I have been together for several months now, and I’ve literally never been happier in my entire life, not that it’s really any of your business.” Steve said, moving out of Sharon’s reach and walking to Bucky’s side. He turned back to face Sharon, putting his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky, in turn, wrapped both arms around Steve’s waist and leaned against him. “Bucky, this is Sharon Carter, my ex. Sharon, this is Bucky Barnes, my incredibly supportive and wonderful boyfriend.” The two of them, clearly just out of the shower and wearing pajamas, looked at her with identical expressions of tight smiles and barely concealed irritation.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Steve,” Sharon scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust. “Is this you still pretending to be _‘bisexual’_?” she asked, making air quotes with her fingers. “I thought you’d outgrown that bullshit.”

 

“Language, bitch,” Bucky said, beyond offended.

 

“Sharon,” Steve said, remarkably calm in the face of such utter ignorance, “I don’t expect you to understand this, because you are unbelievably shallow, superficial, and self-centered,” she gasped, taken aback, “but my being bisexual is not bullshit, and it’s not something I’m going to outgrow; however,” he continued, “if there was ever a person that could turn me off women completely, it’s you.” With that, he kissed Bucky’s temple, pulled away to walk over to the door, and held it wide open. “Please leave.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Sharon sputtered, not moving a muscle. “You would turn this down,” she said, referring to herself, “to play gay with him?” she concluded, waving a condescending hand in Bucky’s general direction.

 

“In a heartbeat,” Steve said between clenched teeth. “Now get the hell out.”

 

Sharon stood there for a few seconds, her mouth opening and closing convulsively, before making an angry sound and stomping toward the door.

 

“And don’t bother coming back,” Steve said flatly. “I’ll make sure the doorman knows not to let you up.” With that, he slammed the door in her face.

 

For a couple of seconds, there was total silence, and then Bucky started laughing. Steve looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he was hearing at first, but it became clear quickly that Bucky was having a hard time controlling the sounds coming out of his mouth.

 

“Oh, my god,” he breathed, holding his side as he snorted. “How the hell did we _both_ end up with such fucking jerks for exes? I mean, seriously? _‘Pretending to be bisexual?’_ ” he gasped, his eyes watering. “Was she for real?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Steve shook his head, walking back to Bucky and tugging him close. “I just can’t believe she thought I would have forgotten how awful she was. She’s even more self-centered than I thought.” He looked down at Bucky. “I consider finding you my reward for dealing with that harpy for two years and not killing her.”

 

“Am I your trophy boyfriend?” Bucky asked, snickering as he batted his eyelashes.

 

“You’re so much more than a trophy, baby boy; you are the grand fucking prize,” Steve growled before kissing Bucky hard, showing him how much he wanted and adored him. Despite their mutual exhaustion, or maybe because of it, the kiss began spiraling quickly; they were moving toward the bedroom before they even realized it, hands roaming and pulling at clothing, little moans and whimpers being shared. Another sharp knock at the door brought them up short.

 

“I forgot about the pizza,” Steve said, halfway to pulling his shirt off.

 

“Me, too,” Bucky whispered, his hands untying the drawstring on his pants.

 

They straightened up, righting their clothes and smoothing out their still-damp hair. Steve went to the door again, looking out the peephole before opening it; luckily, this time it really was the pizza guy. Steve paid him while Bucky went into the kitchen, turning on the lights and getting plates out of the cupboard. He set them on the island, then opened the refrigerator and took out two bottles of beer. Steve brought the pizza in and set it on the counter as Bucky opened the bottles, handing one to Steve. They clinked the bottlenecks together then each took a long drink.

 

“Let’s eat,” Steve said, flipping open the pizza box.

 

“Fuck, yes,” Bucky moaned.

 

“Maybe later, if we can stay awake,” Steve smiled.

 

Bucky laughed, shaking his head tiredly. “Dork.”

 

Despite the fact that they were starving, they only managed to eat a couple of pieces each. After putting the remaining pizza away, rinsing the beer bottles and putting them in the recycling bin, and setting the plates into the dishwasher, they turned off the lights and retreated to the bedroom, putting the laundry into the dryer on the way. They brushed their teeth, got undressed, and slid into bed.

 

Steve held Bucky close, stroking his hair and kissing him softly. “Don’t know what I would have done without you today,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of his head as Bucky snuggled against him. “You’ve been amazing.”

 

“Pretty sure I said the same thing to you just three days ago,” Bucky said, smiling. “It’s been a hell of a week already, and it’s only Wednesday.” He squeezed Steve tight. “We’d better stick together.”

 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” he said, smiling.

 

“Speaking of solid,” Bucky teased as he traced little patterns on Steve’s chest, trying to get something started. Steve chuckled.

 

Five minutes later, they were both sound asleep.

 

***

 

Steve woke up slowly, unsure of what was happening. His hips were moving lazily and he felt like he was floating, warm and happy. He just lay there, with his eyes closed, enjoying the hot, wet sensation of Bucky’s mouth wrapped around his—

 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, his back arching.

 

Bucky pulled off his cock with an obscenely loud popping sound. “Good morning, Daddy,” he teased, pumping Steve’s shaft firmly. “Was beginning to think you were gonna sleep all the way through this.”

 

“Oh, god, baby,” Steve moaned, watching as Bucky licked and swirled his tongue around the swollen, purple head, pressing his thumb along the large vein underneath.

 

“Mmm, I love the way you taste, Daddy,” Bucky sighed happily, swallowing Steve down as far as he could take him. He bobbed up and down, sucking and slurping, his saliva making Steve’s shaft slick and wet and easing the glide as he pumped him with his fist. Steve gathered Bucky’s hair into his right hand, holding it out of the way.

 

“ _Fuck,_ baby boy, I’m so close already—oh, my god,” Steve groaned, his head falling back. “Your mouth is just—feels so good on Daddy’s cock, sweetheart,” he panted, his hips rolling up as much as Bucky would allow.

 

Bucky lifted his head briefly. “Pull my hair, please, Daddy?” he asked sweetly before sucking Steve back down.

 

Steve moaned as he curled Bucky’s hair around his fist and pulled, slowly and steadily. Bucky groaned around his dick, his eyelids fluttering as Steve cried out, “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come, gonna come so hard, Jesus, _fuck!_ ”

 

His eyes clenched shut as the waves of pleasure slammed through him and he released into Bucky’s warm, generous mouth. Bucky swallowed, moaning happily as he milked Steve’s shaft of everything it had to give. He sucked and licked until Steve’s cock finally began to soften, and then he let it slip slowly from his lips as Steve continued to pant and moan.

 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Bucky murmured, licking Steve’s shaft as it lay across his thigh. He kissed his way up Steve’s abdomen and over his chest, which rose and fell rapidly with each breath, until he was nibbling at Steve’s lush, red lips.

 

Steve’s arms suddenly wrapped around Bucky, squeezing him tight; he then rolled them both over, pinning Bucky to the mattress. “You precious, beautiful, perfect goddamn—“ he growled, crushing his lips to Bucky’s, licking into his mouth and tasting himself on his gorgeous boy’s tongue. Words flowed, pouring from his lips between kisses. “So fuckin’ amazing—can’t believe how incredible you are—sweet baby boy—never lettin’ you go.“

 

Steve finally broke away, kissing Bucky’s throat hungrily, biting and sucking red marks into his fair skin. “Stevie,” he gasped, his fingers scrabbling at Steve’s shoulders.

 

“Wanna suck you so bad, baby boy,” Steve mumbled, sounding almost frantic with need as he moved down Bucky’s body, kissing and nibbling every inch of skin.

 

“Steve, we need to—“

 

“Need you, baby, so much—“

 

“Steve!”

 

He jumped, startled out of whatever headspace he had been in, and looked at Bucky in surprise. “Yeah, Buck?” he asked, eyes wide.

 

“Steve, sweetie,” Bucky said, cupping his face in his hands, “Happy will be here in about fifteen minutes. We need to get dressed.”

 

“But,” he said, looking genuinely perplexed, “I wanna suck you.”

 

“Hold that thought,” Bucky smiled, sitting up and kissing Steve’s lower lip, which was sticking out in a definite pout. “C’mon, handsome,” he chuckled, “we need to get moving.”

 

Steve’s head fell forward and he sighed, conceding defeat. “I seem to remember this happening once before,” he said, looking at Bucky with an arched brow and a lopsided smile.

 

“So don’t make me wait until Saturday night this time,” Bucky smirked, patting Steve’s cheek as he scooted to the side of the bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Thank Yous to everyone for the kind words and kudos! I'm a little stunned at the response to the last chapter--nearly 1,000 hits, which is kind of crazy to me--and I appreciate it so much! :D
> 
> I've also just posted the final chapter to my other story, "Remake Yourself and Rise," which is a Bucky/OFC and a complete monster at 340K words. It's under my other name, Cosmic_Entity1of4--I like to keep my Marvel stories and my AUs separate. ;) If you have several dozen hours to spare, feel free to check it out while I work on Part 2.
> 
> Hope you're all having a great week--thank you again and see you soon!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	14. But I Can Share This With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, everyone! I hope you're all having a great week!
> 
> SMUT WARNING! There is a rather smutty bit of smut in this chapter, toward the end. You've been warned. ;)

  

Happy was waiting outside promptly at nine-thirty, smiling cheerily at the two men who walked out, hand-in-hand. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, holding the car door open for them. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Like rocks, Happy,” Steve replied, returning his smile.

 

“The cargo container is set up in the delivery area of the garage, so I’ll be taking you into the Tower that way this morning, if that’s okay with you, Mister Rogers,” Happy informed them as he got into the front seat and started the ignition.

 

“Absolutely, thank you,” he said, putting his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, kissing the side of his head when he leaned into him.

 

Just a little after ten a.m., they drove into the Tower’s delivery area, where the cargo container was already open. Tony was there, directing the workmen to set the boxes out according to their grid coordinates. “Morning!” he called out to Steve and Bucky as they got out of the car.

 

“Morning, Tony,” Steve said, taking Bucky’s hand. They thanked Happy, who drove off to park the car, and approached the cargo container where the boxes were being laid out.

 

“Good night? Sleep well?” Tony asked, taking in their smiling, well-rested appearances with a grin.

 

“Yes, it was a good night,” Steve said, giving Tony a lopsided smile and an _I’m not saying anything else, so don’t ask_ look.

 

“Kind of a weird night,” Bucky said, shaking his head with a bewildered look on his face. At Steve’s confused frown, he reminded him. “Sharon?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve huffed, laughing that he had completely forgotten their unpleasant visitor from the night before.

 

“Sharon?” Tony blurted out, his eyes wide. Steve rolled his eyes.

 

“She came to visit me last night to offer her condolences for the destruction of SHIELD Publications,” Steve said, tilting his head in a perplexed fashion.

 

“And to try and get you back, don’t forget that part,” Bucky grumbled.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony shouted, drawing the attention of everyone inside a thirty-foot radius. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding both hands up, clearly upset. Lowering his voice, he leaned in and hissed, “That bitch had the balls to try and get you to take her back? After the way she treated you?”

 

“She’s got some brass ones, that’s for damn sure,” Bucky murmured, shaking his head. “She was all, _‘Oh, Steve,’_ ” he mimicked in a whiny, high-pitched voice. “ _’Now you can get a big, fancy job, and we can be together like we’re supposed to be,’_ and she was running her hands all over him, and I just wanted to scratch her damn eyes out,” he bit out, crossing his arms over his chest, an angry pout on his face. He looked up at Steve, his eyes narrowed. “Are you laughing at me?”

 

Steve had his lips clamped together, desperately trying to hold in the laughter that was threatening to burst out of him. “Absolutely not, sweetheart,” he choked out, shaking his head. He wrapped his arms around Bucky from behind, pulling him back into his chest and burying his face in his hair. Bucky could feel his entire body shaking.

 

“Honestly, Bucky-Bear, you’re just too damn cute when you want to scratch a bitch’s eyes out,” Tony teased. “Poor Stevie won’t be able to handle it when you go full-tilt diva.”

 

“I was close last night,” Bucky said, still annoyed, but he couldn’t help but smile when he had Steve’s arms around him. “You’re a little shit, Rogers,” he laughed, reaching behind him to swat Steve’s backside.

 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Steve finally gave up, snickering. He squeezed Bucky tight. “You really do just look too freaking cute when you’re mad.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’m terrifying.” He turned his head to the side and kissed Steve’s cheek. “So, Tony, we gettin’ to work here or what?”

 

“Yes, yes we are,” Tony grinned, gesturing to the boxes laid out. He walked over to a whiteboard that had been put up on the outside of the cargo container. “Here’s the grid showing the inside of the office. When your people come in, they can search the boxes close to where their desks were, and hopefully they can find their stuff. Anything not claimed today we can hold upstairs with the paperwork until the office reopens.”

 

“Upstairs?” Steve asked.

 

“We had a group of open offices on the twelfth floor,” Tony said casually. “You guys can relocate to the Tower for the next couple of months until the SHIELD office reopens, if you’d like. I’ll have a carpool organized to bring people in if they need a ride.”

 

“You’d be charging us rent, right?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

 

“Of course,” Tony said, shrugging unconcernedly.

 

“Full rate for Tower space?” Steve continued.

 

“Uh, sure, something like that,” Tony mumbled, looking away. “Darcy!” he cried, obviously relieved to be able to change the subject.

 

“Oh, my god, you guys,” Darcy said, running over to hug everyone. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” She squeezed Bucky so hard he grunted. “Thank you so much for being here for Steve. You’re awesome,” she whispered. A couple of seconds later, she added, “Mmm, you smell good, too.”

 

Bucky smiled, embarrassed. “Uh, thanks,” he said, cheeks reddening as she released him.

 

Peggy showed up then, holding a stack of papers for Steve to sign, and Tony needed to take a call from the workmen, so Bucky helped Darcy find her belongings, which were scattered over a few boxes of things collected near the front of the office. “Was it really bad?” Darcy asked quietly as they sifted through items; she found her iPod in one box, a small picture of her grandmother in another.

 

“It could have been a lot worse,” Bucky said, his voice soft. “The fire was put out quickly, so most of the damage is from things getting thrown around.”

 

“Do they know what caused it yet?” she asked as she labeled a box full of her paperwork.

 

He looked at her sharply. “I, uh, I don’t know what we’re allowed to talk about, actually,” he said apologetically. “They’re still investigating.”

 

She frowned at him in confusion, but before she could say anything more, Peter, Steve’s assistant, came flying in. “I’m here! I’m here!” he shouted, effectively ending any further questioning.

 

There was a steady stream of employees coming through, and Steve spoke to everyone, letting them know that they were setting up temporary offices on the twelfth floor. He put Darcy and Peter to work getting people signed up for carpools if they needed transportation while he and Peggy took people to get Tower I.D. badges.

 

After a while, despite the fact that it was November, it started to get warm in the garage. Bucky pulled off the sweatshirt he was wearing, leaving him in a short-sleeved t-shirt. Not two minutes later, Peter walked by. He glanced at Bucky’s arm, and then did the most hilarious double-take Bucky had ever seen.

 

“Holy shit!” he blurted out, peering closely at the silver-toned ink. “You have a tattoo that looks like a metal arm? That is awesome, dude!” He turned his head this way and that, taking in all the details and gushing over the artwork, as Bucky stood completely still, unsure of what he should do.

 

“Um, can I ask, is that scar real or is it part of the tattoo?” Peter asked, suddenly quiet, indicating the longest of the scars that ran the length of Bucky’s bicep.

 

“That’s, uh, that’s real,” Bucky said uncomfortably, pulling his arm away slightly.

 

“You can tattoo over scars?” Peter asked, and Bucky heard in his voice not just curiosity, but hopefulness.

 

Bucky looked at Peter closely, and saw something in his eyes that eased his worries. “Yeah, it just takes a special type of ink, and someone who knows what they’re doing. My friend Wanda did this, she’s the best.” He pulled up his sleeve further to show Peter the rest of the design.

 

“That is so cool. Do, uh, do you think she could do something with this?” Peter asked softly, pulling up his right pant leg a few inches to show his calf, the outer part of which was covered in rough and unevenly textured skin. Bucky knelt down briefly to look at it.

 

“Doesn’t look all that different than mine did,” Bucky said kindly, standing back up. “She could probably do whatever you wanted.”

 

“It would be nice to wear shorts in the summer again, without everyone feeling all sorry for me,” Peter said, frowning a little.

 

“I know what you mean,” Bucky smiled. “I didn’t wear short sleeves for years. Got damn uncomfortable sometimes, but it was better than people starin’—“

 

“And then pretending they weren’t staring when you caught them,” Peter said, nodding.

 

“Exactly,” Bucky said. He lifted his shoulder a bit. “Got hit by a car, dragged for over a block, shattered my arm and shoulder. Couple year’s worth of surgeries. You?”

 

“Severe allergic reaction to a spider bite, if you can believe that shit,” Peter huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Needed half a dozen skin grafts.”

 

“Must have been a big fuckin’ spider,” Bucky said, eyes wide.

 

“Big enough, and real nasty,” Peter said, nodding. “So your friend Wanda, is she from around here?”

 

***

 

Sam came by at lunchtime, just as food and drinks arrived for everyone. Bucky sat with Steve as they ate, their little folding chairs pushed together so they could lean on one another. “I’d sit on your lap, but I’m not sure these chairs could take our combined weight,” Bucky joked as Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his shoulders.

 

“If you sit on my lap, things could get real unprofessional, real quick,” Steve whispered in his ear, making him shiver.

 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Bucky said, moving into the hand that gently squeezed the nape of his neck.

 

“I certainly hope so,” he grinned in response.

 

After lunch, Detective Klein came by with some interesting news. “The men that broke in obviously weren’t expecting such a high-end security and fire system,” he said. “The arson guys say without the system you had in place, the whole building would have gone up in minutes.” He held up a file. “The camera on the outside picked up the rental company sticker on the van’s back bumper, and we were able to identify it, so we’re contacting them to find out how many of their trucks were in New York and who rented them. Once we have that list, we can go through it to see if any of them have a connection to Rumlow, Rollins, or Pierce.”

 

By the middle of the afternoon, every SHIELD employee had come by, gone through the boxes and gotten their I.D. cards to work in the Tower. When the last employee had gone, Steve came up to Bucky and said, “Tony tells me that there’s only one person left who needs an I.D. card to get into the Tower.”

 

Bucky looked around. “Who? I thought we’d already taken care of everyone.”

 

Steve was smiling at him. “He meant you, Buck.”

 

“Me?” Bucky asked, confused. “Why me?”

 

“Clearly, so that you can come and see me whenever you want to,” Steve grinned, taking his hand. “C’mon, we’re taking the few boxes left up to the twelfth floor. We can get your card when we’re done.”

 

Once everything had been stowed in the SHIELD temporary offices, and Bucky had been issued his I.D. card (“If you come in through the main entrance, this will get you onto the SHIELD floor and also the floor with our suite,” Steve said, and Bucky had bitten his bottom lip, smiling and blushing, at the mention of “our suite”), they went back down to the garage level, this time to collect Steve’s car and drive home.

 

When they were back at Steve’s place, and the door was closed behind them, Steve pulled Bucky into his arms. “I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done to help me these last few days,” he said, holding Bucky tight. “Just knowing you were with me made me feel so much better.”

 

Bucky snuggled against him, breathing in his warm, woodsy scent. “Always, Stevie,” he sighed, snaking his hands under the back of Steve’s shirt. “I’d do anything for you.”

 

Steve smiled into his hair, wanting so badly to say the words that were on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them down, though, and instead he said, “How about a shower and some dinner? Relax and watch a movie tonight?”

 

“That sounds great,” Bucky grinned, tipping his head back and giving Steve a kiss. “Why don’t you go ahead and shower first? I need to call Nat and Nick.”

 

“Okay, baby,” Steve smiled, giving him one last kiss before heading down the hall.

 

Bucky had just finished up his phone calls and walked in to the bedroom when Steve came out, drying his hair. “All yours, sweetheart,” he grinned, walking over to his dresser. “How do you feel about grilled cheese sandwiches?”

 

“One of my all-time favorite comfort foods,” Bucky replied, walking into the bathroom and taking off his t-shirt, dropping it in the laundry basket.

 

Steve pulled on his briefs and lounge pants. “Does that sound good for dinner?” he asked, putting a t-shirt on.

 

“I’d be happy with leftover pizza, if you’re too tired,” he said, sliding his jeans off and grabbing a towel.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Steve said.

 

“Then grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Bucky grinned, reaching into the shower and turning on the water. “I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

 

Steve got all the sandwich ingredients out and the pan ready, then decided to fold the laundry from the day before and put it away before he started grilling the sandwiches. Bucky came out to the kitchen, his hair damp and loose, and comfy in his pajamas, just as Steve flipped the sandwiches in the pan.

 

“Oh, that smells good,” Bucky sighed, giving Steve a kiss on the cheek and then walking to the refrigerator. “What do you want to drink?” he asked.

 

“Um, just water, I think,” Steve said, checking the toastiness of the bread.

 

“Do you want some veggies?” Bucky asked. “You have baby carrots in here.”

 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Steve said. “Not sure either one of us has been eating right the last couple of days. I’ll hit the grocery store tomorrow.”

 

Five minutes later, they were seated at the table, crunching on their grilled cheese sandwiches. “Oh, my _gawd,_ this is good,” Bucky moaned. “What kind of cheese are you using?”

 

Steve smiled at him. “Extra sharp cheddar and a little Havarti,” he said. “Makes it nice and creamy.”

 

“Seriously fantastic, Stevie,” Bucky hummed, pulling at a long string of melted cheese. After he finished chewing and swallowing, he said, “Speaking of tomorrow, I talked to Nick. He’s got a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon to look at his knee, so I told him I could come in and close.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Steve said, nodding. “I was planning on working here tomorrow. Can you still stay tonight?”

 

“Yeah, but I’ll need to go home—I mean Nat and Clint’s place—before I go to the bookstore.”

 

“My laptop and some of my other stuff is still in your room, so I need to pick that up anyway,” Steve said.

 

After they finished their dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, they moved into the living room and settled on the couch, stretched out and snuggled together. “What do you feel like watching?” Steve asked, picking up the remote.

 

“Maybe something without fire and explosions,” Bucky said, nuzzling under Steve’s chin. “Something silly.”

 

Steve flipped through the Netflix options and came across _The Lego Movie_. “Is that silly enough for you?” he asked, smiling down at his little boy.

 

“That looks like just the right amount of silly,” Bucky said happily, as comfortable as anyone could possibly be.

 

The two grown men giggled, snorted, and belly-laughed their way through the movie (“That Emmet guy reminds me of my buddy Pete,” Bucky laughed.) By the end of it, they were both tired from laughing, and Steve swore that he was never going to be able to get that song out of his head. “Well, Stevie,” Bucky said playfully, pushing himself up on to his knees, “how about I give you something else to think about?”

 

Steve narrowed his eyes, grinning. “It would have to be _really_ distracting. That song is pretty catchy.”

 

Bucky crawled over him, straddling his hips and running his hands over his shoulders and then down his arms. “How’s this for distracting?” he asked with a smile.

 

“It’s a good start,” Steve teased.

 

“What if I throw in a little of this,” Bucky said, and he leaned down, gently kissing Steve’s cheek. Steve smiled, tucking Bucky’s hair behind his ears.

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, resting his head back against the arm of the couch. “I like where this is heading.” He let his hands trail down Bucky’s sides to his hips and then wrapped his hands around them, his thumbs caressing his baby’s hipbones, holding him in place. Bucky squirmed a little, feeling Steve’s shaft begin to stiffen underneath him.

 

“Do you like when I sit on your lap, Daddy?” he asked softly, looking at Steve through his lashes. He trailed his fingers down Steve’s chest and abdomen and began playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

 

The change in Steve’s countenance was immediate; his eyes darkened, the pupils swallowing the irises until nothing but a slim blue ring remained. His fingers tightened, and he watched Bucky intently, a deep, rumbling sound coming from his chest. “Yeah, I do,” he murmured, his voice falling into the dark registers that made Bucky shiver in response, his hips pressing down and his back starting to arch. “Do you like sitting on Daddy’s lap, baby boy?”

 

“I love it,” Bucky sighed as he rolled his hips. His eyes slid shut and he smiled, biting his bottom lip, as heat began to pool in his stomach. “It feels so good.”

 

“Does it, sweetheart? Be a good boy, tell Daddy what you love about sitting on his lap,” Steve said, his fingers splaying across Bucky’s ass.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky whispered, his breath catching as his abdominal muscles clenched. He had gotten braver about voicing his desires with Steve, though he was still usually a little bashful to start. “I love how big and strong you are, Daddy,” he whispered shyly. “I love feeling like your little boy.”

 

“You’re the most beautiful, most perfect baby boy ever,” Steve purred, urging Bucky to roll his hips forward. “Tell me more.”

 

“Oh, Daddy,” Bucky moaned, sliding his hands over Steve’s chest, palming his pecs. “I love how hard you get, so big and thick,” he said breathily, pressing his pelvis down against Steve’s rigid, swollen erection. “And I love that it’s all for me,” he said coyly, listening to Steve’s shaky exhalations.

 

“All for you, only you, baby boy,” he said raggedly. “You like Daddy’s hard cock, huh, sweetheart?”

 

“I love your cock, so much,” Bucky said, rocking against the solid, unyielding bulge in Steve’s soft, cotton pants. “I love how it tastes, how it fills me up.”

 

“Oh, Jesus, Buck,” Steve choked out, pushing up to meet Bucky’s thrusts.

 

“ _Unh,_ fuck, your cock is amazing.” Bucky grunted, grinding down hard. He braced his arms on Steve’s chest, his fingers curling into the hard, thick muscle. “You wanna fuck me, Daddy?” he asked, a note of neediness creeping into his voice. “Put me on my hands and knees and fuck me hard?”

 

“’S that what you want, baby doll?” Steve growled, pulling Bucky’s hips down to press their shafts together. “Want me to bend you over, get that gorgeous little ass of yours up in the air?”

 

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky whimpered, gasping as his hips jerked.

 

Steve sat up, grabbed the back of Bucky’s head, and pulled him down so that their lips crashed together. The other arm slid under Bucky’s ass as Steve turned, getting his feet on the floor. He stood, supporting Bucky’s entire weight on one arm, and made his way carefully out of the living room and down the hall.

 

Bucky had wrapped both arms and legs around Steve’s neck and waist, clinging to him like a baby koala, refusing to loosen his hold even as Steve threw back the covers and knelt on the mattress. He sat on his heels, cradling his little boy against his chest, keeping their pelvises pressed together. When they finally broke for air, Steve started kissing his way down Bucky’s throat, nipping and sucking at the soft skin under his ear, listening to his boyfriend’s soft moans and shaky sighs. “So pretty,” he murmured, licking the outer edge of Bucky’s ear, making him shiver. “I love how responsive you are, how you get goose bumps every time I touch you.”

 

“I fuckin’ love your hands on me,” Bucky moaned, finally easing up on his grasp and sliding his hands into Steve’s hair. “I love how you can pick me up and move me around and just fuckin’ _manhandle_ me,” he growled, curling his fingers in the soft, blond locks, and holding him close, “and I can just let go ‘cause I know you’ll take care of me.”

 

“I’ll always take care of you, sweetheart,” Steve said, laying Bucky down on the bed. He stretched out over him, pressing him down into the mattress, whispering in his ear. “Whether you want it sweet and gentle,” he said, lightly stroking his fingertips down the side of Bucky’s face, before suddenly burying his hand in the brunet’s hair and curling his fist as he pulled steadily and firmly, “or when you want it hard and fast.”

 

“Oh, _god,_ ” Bucky groaned, his chin tipping up to expose his throat. Heat flooded his body, and it felt like sparks were shooting up and down his spine. Steve attached his lips to the underside of his jaw and sucked hard, leaving a red mark behind, even as Bucky grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it up so that he could get his hands on Steve’s muscles. “C’mon, Daddy,” he whimpered, running his hands up Steve’s back and digging in with his fingertips, “I want it.”

 

“My baby boy wants it, huh?” Steve grinned, leering down at him, before pushing back onto his knees and pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere across the room, his pants immediately following. Then he reached down and untied the drawstring on Bucky’s pants; he curled his fingers into the waist of Bucky’s pants and briefs, sliding them down and off as Bucky pointed both of his legs into the air.

 

Before Bucky could drop his feet down, Steve grabbed his ankles and started kissing, sucking, and biting the backs of his calves, working his way up Bucky’s legs to his thighs as the brunet squirmed. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Steve whispered, gently pushing his legs apart and over so that he was completely exposed and open to Steve’s gaze. “Look at that sweet little hole,” he purred, rubbing his hands softly over Bucky’s ass, squeezing the firm muscles.

 

Bucky held his legs, his hands grasping the backs of his knees. “Please, Daddy,” he moaned, “don’t tease me.”

 

“But I love teasin’ you, baby,” Steve smiled. “Teasin’ this tight little hole open with my tongue and my fingers, teasin’ this pretty cock,” he cooed, licking his lips. He trailed his fingertips over Bucky’s balls and up the length of his stiff, red shaft, pausing to collect a drop of pre-fluid from his slit and smearing it over the swollen head, watching hungrily as it twitched and jumped from the lightest touch.

 

“Fuck, Steve, you’re killin’ me here!” Bucky cried, and then he suddenly gasped, eyes wide, when Steve’s big right hand came down with a loud _smack!_ on his ass.

 

“Are you gonna be a good boy? Or do I need to stop so you can calm down?” Steve asked, the deep, dark, steely, rumbling tone of his voice sending a thrill through Bucky that had him breathing faster.

 

“I’ll be good, Daddy, I promise,” he said quickly, watching Steve with big, dilated eyes. “Please don’t stop.”

 

“I’ll give you everything, baby boy,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss the brunet, “but I won’t rush.” With both hands, he gently tugged Bucky’s t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside and tenderly trailing his hands down Bucky’s torso. “I want to savor you.”

 

Steve was as good as his word; he prepped Bucky slowly and thoroughly, kissing every inch of his body, until he was practically crying with need. “Please, Daddy, _please,_ ” he sobbed.

 

Steve slid his lips off Bucky’s cock, stroking firmly with one hand, while he gently pumped three fingers in and out of Bucky’s loosened and well-lubed hole with the other. “You think you’re ready for my cock, sweetheart?”

 

“ _Fuck, yes,_ ” he wailed, flushed and sweating, completely lost to the pleasure that Steve was giving him.

 

“Okay, baby,” Steve said, sitting back. He slid his fingers from Bucky’s ass, earning a loud whimper from his baby boy, and picked up the condom he’d grabbed earlier. Tearing it open and rolling it on, he lubed up his shaft and said, “You want it, little boy? You want Daddy’s cock?’

 

“Yeah, Daddy,” Bucky groaned, desperate now.

 

Steve looked him deep in the eyes and whispered, “Roll over, baby doll. Get that gorgeous little ass up for me.”

 

A high-pitched squeak escaped Bucky’s throat, and then he was scrambling to get on his knees. Steve took a firm pillow and handed it to Bucky. “Hug this,” he said softly. “It’ll keep the pressure off your shoulder.”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” he replied quickly, pulling the pillow close and holding it to his chest.

 

Steve watched until Bucky was face down, ass up, arching his back and waiting, before touching him; a single hand caressing Bucky’s spine from his tailbone to his shoulder blades. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you,” he whispered, and then he slid his cock into Bucky’s hole in one long, smooth thrust. Bucky shouted as Steve’s dick dragged over his prostate, which was already sensitive from his ministrations.

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Steve moaned, going nearly light-headed at the pleasure washing over him as Bucky’s warm, velvety soft walls squeezed his shaft. He paused, one hand gripping Bucky’s hip, the other caressing his lower back. “God, sweetheart, you’re so hot, you feel amazing,” he breathed, tilting his head to the side so that he could see Bucky’s face. “Are you okay, darlin’? Can I have a color?”

 

“Green, Daddy,” came the immediate reply, and Steve could see Bucky’s eyes were relaxed and a little glassy, and his lips were turned up at the corners, a dreamy, blissfully fucked-out smile on his face. “Love it,” he sighed happily.

 

“How does my sweet angel want it tonight? Soft and gentle?” Steve asked, pulling his cock slowly out of Bucky’s hole, then just as slowly pushing back in. Bucky groaned, his jaw slack; Steve watched as goose bumps erupted across his back in a wave. Smiling, he began to pull out again. “Or, maybe, _not_ —“ he grunted, snapping his hips forward and drilling his prostate, as Bucky cried out, “so soft and gentle?”

 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” Bucky panted, the fingers of his right hand curling in the bed sheets. Steve was already pulling out, dragging his cock along the sensitive bundle of nerves, and then pushing back, the stimulation never stopping. A high, keening sound was coming from Bucky’s throat, which was broken by another shout as Steve pulled back and slammed forward again.

 

“Haven’t decided yet?” Steve asked teasingly, alternating between the soft, slow glides and hard, hammering thrusts. He leaned over, spread his right hand on Bucky’s right shoulder blade, and pressed him down, the pillow keeping Bucky’s left shoulder in a neutral position. When Bucky cried out with an almost whorish moan, his eyes rolling back, Steve asked, “Do you like that, baby doll?”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” he wailed, gasping, as he arched his back and spread his legs even further. “Please, Daddy! Fuck me hard, please!”

 

“Such a good boy,” Steve murmured as he began pounding Bucky’s ass. “So beautiful, so perfect, taking Daddy’s cock so well, my sweet little boy.”

 

Bucky felt the words pouring over him like warm honey, soothing him to his core, and with Steve’s hand anchoring him, he began to float. His cock, which was almost painfully hard and leaking, brushed against the soft, smooth pillowcase with every thrust, and he began to moan louder, almost whining, “So close, Daddy, so close, it feels so good.”

 

“You wanna come, angel face?” Steve asked, unrelenting in his rhythm.

 

“Yeah, Daddy, so green, so close,” he whimpered, his brow furrowing as his body chased its release.

 

“Go ahead and come, sweetheart,” Steve grunted. “I’m gonna fuck you all the way through it, alright?”

 

“Please, please, Daddy,” he begged, trying to get more friction on his aching, throbbing cock.

 

“Need me to stroke you, baby?” Steve asked. “Do you need Daddy to play with your pretty cock?”

 

Bucky was nearly incoherent at this point, barely managing to mumble, “Please, please.”

 

Steve slid his left hand from Bucky’s hip, moving it underneath to where his shaft was rubbing lightly against the silky fabric. He palmed Bucky’s cock, wet with pre-fluid, holding it against his stomach. The swaying movement of their bodies as Steve continued to thrust into him forced Bucky’s cock to slide in and out of the confines of Steve’s hand, effectively having him fuck Steve’s fist. Less than a dozen strokes later, Bucky screamed, “Coming, Daddy, _cominnnng—uhhhhnnn!_ ”

 

Steve felt the hot, hard pulsing of Bucky’s cock, followed by an eruption as he came, crying out in agonizing ecstasy. Steve continued to thrust unabated, his head falling back a little as Bucky’s ass spasmed, clenching and fluttering, around his shaft. “Fuck, baby boy, you’re so gorgeous, so incredible, love to feel you come around me,” he muttered, his eyes sliding shut as he raced toward his finish.

 

Bucky was limp underneath him, hardly even holding himself up, as Steve gripped his hips firmly and began thrusting faster, feeling the tightening in his lower abdomen. “Oh, oh sweetheart,” he gasped, his stomach beginning to clench down, “oh, fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ come so hard, oh, Jesus, baby, I’m— _unh, unh, unh!_ ”

 

He ground hard into Bucky’s ass, pulled back, then slammed into him again, trying to get as deep as he could, as his orgasm crashed through him. He shouted, his head thrown back, his pelvis straining, every muscle in his body working to get deeper into his baby boy, as euphoria like he’d never known filled him. Every nerve ending was on fire, every inch of skin from the top of his head to his toes tingled in waves, and he felt nearly boneless as he was flooded with pleasure.

 

When he finally came down, he fell forward, Bucky collapsing completely under his weight. He sprawled over Bucky’s back, keeping mostly to his right side (at least he was _that_ cognizant of his surroundings), his left arm curled around Bucky’s waist. They lay there together, both breathing hard and sweating, for several minutes, their muscles still twitching, their hips occasionally making small, involuntary thrusting motions.

 

Steve nuzzled into the nape of Bucky’s neck, kissing him softly and humming sleepily, murmuring words of praise and affection. Were it not for the fact that they needed to get cleaned up, he would have been perfectly happy to stay in that moment forever. He felt his cock start to slip from Bucky’s hole, though, and reached down to hold the base of the condom as he pulled the rest of the way out. Bucky never made a sound.

 

Steve pushed himself up on his right arm, reaching for the tissue box, and peered down at Bucky’s face. He was peaceful, relaxed—and sound asleep.

 

Steve huffed a little laugh, rolling off the bed onto wobbly legs, and went into the bathroom to get a washcloth. After washing his hands and cleaning himself off, he took the warm, damp cloth back into the bedroom and stood by Bucky’s side of the bed. He cleaned as much as he could with Bucky still lying on his stomach, then went to rinse off the washcloth before coming back out.

 

This time he whispered softly into Bucky’s ear, “Sweetheart, you need to roll over. Daddy needs to clean you up.”

 

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

 

So Steve carefully slid his arm under Bucky’s chest and rolled him onto his back, toward the center of the bed, the brunet making a sleepy, snorting noise before falling silent and limp once again. Steve gently wiped him down, smiling dopily the entire time, and then he took the washcloth and the pillowcase, which had caught most of Bucky’s release, back into the bathroom. He rinsed them off and then put them in the laundry. The rest of the sheets could wait until the next day. So could the shower, clearly.

 

Walking back into the bedroom, Steve pulled the sheets over his little boy, who was lightly snoring, spread-eagle across much of the bed, and, after turning off the light, slid in next to him. He carefully moved Bucky’s left arm and leg over a bit so he could lie comfortably beside him, then put his hand on Bucky’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Listening to the soothing sounds of his love sleeping at his side, Steve fell asleep, feeling for the first time in days like everything was awesome.

 

***

 

Sunlight was streaming in, filtered through the curtains of the bedroom, when Steve was awakened by the gorgeous man aggressively snuggling his way into his arms. He was making funny little grunting noises as he burrowed under Steve’s arm and into his chest. Once he finally settled down, his head wedged under Steve’s chin and his right arm around Steve’s waist, Steve quietly asked, “Comfortable?”

 

“Almost,” Bucky said, reaching down to tap Steve’s left thigh. “Lift up a bit.” When he did, Bucky slotted his right thigh in between Steve’s, flattening himself completely against him. “Ahh,” he sighed as Steve curled his leg around Bucky’s, “perfect.”

 

“Bossy little shit,” Steve muttered, kissing the top of Bucky’s head.

 

“Who’s the one that fucked me unconscious last night?” Bucky asked, nuzzling into the big blond’s chest.

 

“Guilty,” Steve smiled sleepily. “You feel okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?” he asked, hugging Bucky close and rubbing his back.

 

“I feel amazing,” Bucky sighed happily. “Definitely need a shower, though.”

 

“You and me both, sweetheart,” Steve agreed.

 

“You didn’t shower last night?” Bucky asked, kissing Steve’s collarbone.

 

“You were dead to the world,” he chuckled, “and there’s not much point in getting clean without you. I mean, seriously, look at us. Couldn’t get much closer without being, uh…” he trailed off, smiling.

 

“Without putting your dick in me?” Bucky snorted.

 

“Yeah,” he laughed.

 

“Well, since we need to shower anyway,” Bucky grinned flirtatiously, shifting slightly to press his shaft against Steve’s strong, muscled thigh, “what do ya say we get good and dirty again first?”

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, pressing his hips forward, feeling their cocks swell. “You’re so smart, baby boy.”

 

***

 

Steve drove Bucky back to Nat and Clint’s house after lunch, and then, after collecting the things he’d left there days before, he drove Bucky to the bookstore. Then, of course, Steve went to Mister Colletta’s deli and picked up dinner for Bucky, so that he wouldn’t have to go out alone at his break time.

 

“I’ll see you at closing time?” Steve asked, kissing Bucky in the break room.

 

“Clint is actually here tonight, so I can get a ride home with him,” Bucky said.

 

Steve pulled back a bit, frowning. “Are you not coming home tonight?”

 

“Well, I need to work tomorrow, too,” Bucky said, his pulse fluttering as Steve spoke of his place as ‘their’ home, “and I know you need to get your work done, and I don’t want to disturb you, so I figured I would just stay at my—Nat and Clint’s—place tonight.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said, looking disappointed. “But I get you back tomorrow night, right, baby?”

 

Bucky smiled, looking at Steve so adoringly that Steve’s heart flipped upside-down. “Absolutely, Stevie, so make sure you get lots of work done, ‘cause I want you all to myself tomorrow night.”

 

“I’m gonna miss you tonight, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing Bucky softly. “Please call me when you get home, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Bucky promised.

 

Bucky’s co-workers were glad to see him, and were very happy that he hadn’t been seriously hurt when Rumlow had attacked him. Pete in particular had gotten a little choked up when he saw Bucky, hugging him tight. “You’re keeping Steve forever, right?” he asked, his eyes bright.

 

“I would not need to be persuaded,” Bucky said, smiling.

 

As he worked, he filled Pete in on everything that had happened that week—Brock grabbing him on Sunday night, the break-in and fire at Steve’s office early on Wednesday morning, helping to clean up and get the SHIELD employees settled at the Tower on Thursday. “The Tower? _Stark_ Tower?” Pete asked, his eyes wide.

 

“Yeah, Steve grew up with Tony Stark, they’re really good friends,” Bucky explained. He snorted. “Steve even has an apartment in the Tower to use whenever he wants to.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Pete asked.

 

“No, we stayed there for a few hours Wednesday morning after we got the call about the office,” Bucky said. “It’s nice. Doesn’t feel like Steve at all, but it’s nice.”

 

“Holy shit, dude, that is wild,” Pete said, shaking his head.

 

“I feel bad for Steve, though,” Bucky sighed. “His office, all that artwork, is just…gone,” he said. “The rest of it can be replaced, but there was a lot of Steve’s own original artwork on the walls, and it was completely destroyed.”

 

“You’ve got some of his art, right?” Pete asked.

 

“Just prints, not the originals,” Bucky shrugged.

 

“Well, who does have some?” Pete asked. “Go on one of your nerd blogs and find out where to get some original Steven G. Rogers artwork.”

 

Bucky just stood there, blinking.

 

“You might not be able to replace what he’s lost,” Pete said, “but you can maybe find some different ones.”

 

“That’s a great idea, Pete,” Bucky said thoughtfully, a smile creeping across his face.

 

Bucky spent his dinner break looking at some comic-collector blogs and websites, whistling at how much Steve’s artwork was going for. “If Steve had sold the dozen or so pictures that were hanging on his office walls,” he told Pete afterwards, “he probably could have gotten nearly fifty grand for it.”

 

“That much?” Pete asked, his jaw dropping open.

 

“Turns out my boyfriend’s work ain’t cheap,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “This is going to be tougher than I thought.” He narrowed his eyes as his brain worked on the problem. “I may need to call in some help.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words! This has been such a fluffy little story, and I have enjoyed writing it so much. Your comments always put a smile on my face. :D
> 
> Two weeks until Infinity War and I'm going to start avoiding social media until after I've seen it. NO SPOILERS!! Someone actually spoiled the Black Panther end credit scene for me two days before it opened. Makes me crazy.


	15. I Feel I'm On Top Again, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels! More feels! Some smutty feels! SO MANY FEELS!! And smut. :)
> 
> And also...
> 
> SHIELD settles into their temporary digs, and some answers start to come in.
> 
> :D

 

Bucky went back to his room at Clint and Nat’s house after work, remembering to call Steve once he was there. After assuring him that all the doors and windows were locked and that he would absolutely not open the door to anyone without checking the cameras first, and confirming plans for Steve to pick him up at work the next evening, they wished each other a good night.

 

It had only been a week since Bucky had last slept alone in his bed, but apparently it was enough that it took him a good, long time to drop off. He found himself waking up repeatedly, searching for Steve in his sleep. At first he laughed at himself, because seriously. After the third time waking up, reaching for the empty side of the bed, he just felt lonely. Feeling like the most pathetic, lovesick puppy on the planet, he sent Steve a text message at three-twenty a.m. _I miss you_ , he sent, along with a sad face emoji. He most certainly was not expecting the almost immediate response.

 

Stevie: _I miss you, too, sweetheart._

 

Me: _I didn’t wake you up, did I?_

 

Stevie: _No. I’m having a hard time sleeping._

 

Me: _Me, too._

 

Me: _Are we being ridiculous?_

 

Stevie: _Probably. Doesn’t mean I miss you any less, though._

 

Stevie: _Try to sleep, baby. I’ll see you tonight._

 

Me: _Okay. You try to sleep, too. Get lots of work done later._

 

Stevie: _Will do, Buck. Goodnight. <3_

 

Me: _Goodnight, Stevie. <3_

 

***

 

Bucky did manage to get in a few more hours of sleep after that; perhaps knowing that Steve was thinking about him and missing him just as much helped his heart not to hurt so much. Regardless, he was smiling when he came out for breakfast, re-reading the texts.

 

“Well, you don’t look like you slept very much, but you’re smiling anyway,” Nat said, watching him as he walked through the kitchen.

 

Bucky huffed a laugh, sitting down at the table where Nat was having some coffee. He set his phone down and rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them, Nat was holding his phone and reading his conversation with Steve. “Hey!” he said, reaching for his phone, which Nat held out of his reach simply by leaning away from him. “That’s kind of private, you know.”

 

Nat continued reading, undeterred, smiling softly at the messages. When she was finished, she slid the device back to Bucky, who snatched it off the table and turned it off. She watched him, the little smile still on her face. “What?” he asked grumpily.

 

She got up from the table without a word and walked over to the coffee machine, pouring a cup for Bucky and re-filling her own. Walking back to the table, she set Bucky’s mug down in front of him. She sat and waited as Bucky grumbled his thanks and took a long sip of the dark brew. Once he set the cup back on the table, Nat said quietly, “You love him, don’t you.”

 

It wasn’t really a question.

 

Bucky looked at her, expecting a wave of panic to come flooding over him. _It was too fast, too soon, to feel so strongly about him. There was no way Steve could feel this way about him. It was too good to be true. It won’t last._

 

Even as his brain threw these insecurities at him, Bucky realized that he was able to disregard them easily, knowing they weren’t true. Steve was everything he appeared to be; warm, loving, honest, kind—he was all of this and more. And he had made it abundantly clear that he adored Bucky, wanted Bucky…loved Bucky. Instead of panic, he felt a warmth come over him, filling him with happiness.

 

“Yeah,” he finally replied with a smile that wouldn’t be denied. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“That’s good,” Nat said, nodding, “because that man loves you something stupid, too.”

 

Bucky grinned, feeling the truth of her words. “I think you’re right.”

 

Nat smiled, maybe a little sadly. “I’m going to miss you.”

 

He chuckled, his eyes pricking a bit. “I’m not going anywhere yet, Tash. Don’t go renting out my room to someone else.”

 

“There will always be a room for you here,” Nat said, reaching across the table and taking his hand.

 

After breakfast, Bucky spent the rest of his morning on the comic blogs, putting out feelers for people willing to discuss Steve’s artwork. Then he called Maria.

 

“Bucky? Is everything okay?” she asked, picking up on the first ring.

 

 _Steve’s friends were seriously the best,_ Bucky thought. “Yeah, Maria, everything’s fine,” he said. “I just have a question.”

 

“Sure, what’s up?” she said conversationally, and just like that, she switched from police detective to buddy.

 

“Well, first of all,” Bucky said, “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done this week, for me and for Steve,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“It’s my job, Bucky; but more than that, you and Steve are my friends,” she said. “I’ll always do what I can to help out.”

 

“Thanks,” he repeated. “So my question is about whether I’m allowed to talk about the break-in and fire at Steve’s office. I know it’s under investigation, so I don’t want to say something that’s going to cause problems.”

 

“Who’s asking?” Maria asked him concernedly.

 

“Well, no one, yet,” Bucky said. “Steve lost a lot of his original artwork in the fire, and I’ve started looking around on the art collector sites and blogs. I’m hoping that, if people know what happened, they might be willing to sell or donate some pieces to help replace what was lost.”

 

“Oh, Bucky,” Maria said, and he could hear the _AWW_ in her voice. “That is so sweet of you.”

 

“Steve deserves it,” he said softly. “I can’t help but feel like none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”

 

“Whoa. Hold on there, Buck,” Maria said sternly. “None of this is your fault. If Rumlow had anything to do with this, none of that is on you.”

 

Bucky sighed, silently disagreeing with her. “Well, anyway, is it okay for me to say that there was a fire at the SHIELD offices and that his artwork was destroyed?”

 

“Yes, that’s fine,” Maria assured him. “Don’t mention the break-in or anything about possible suspects, though. We don’t want anything getting out beyond what was reported in the newspapers.”

 

“Got it,” Bucky nodded to himself. “Thank you.”

 

“You know,” Maria said, almost as an afterthought, “Peggy would have a list of the pieces that were lost. She might be willing to give you a copy.”

 

“Really?” Bucky sat up, excited. “That would be great! Do you have her number?”

 

After hanging up with Maria, Bucky immediately called Peggy, who picked up her phone with a very formal sounding, “Peggy Carter speaking.”

 

“Peggy?” Bucky said, suddenly feeling very shy. “Um, hi, this is Bucky. Barnes. Steve Rogers’, uh, boyfriend.”

 

“Well, of course it is,” she said, her voice immediately awash with warmth and friendliness. “How are you this morning, Bucky?”

 

“I’m fine, thank you,” he said, smiling bashfully. “How are you?”

 

“I am quite well, thank you,” she said, and Bucky would swear that he could hear the smile in her voice. “What can I do for you today?”

 

So Bucky told her his idea, to get a list of the art pieces that Steve had lost in the fire and try to find replacements, and Peggy was enthusiastic, to say the least. “Darling, you have no idea what that would mean to him,” she said. “It was actually on my to-do list as something to look into, but honestly, I’m an accountant, and this is an area that I’m not altogether familiar with. It sounds like you know far more about it than I do.”

 

“I’ve been a fan of Steve’s work for years, to tell you the truth,” Bucky said. “I was so surprised when he told me who he was—I had never realized Steven G. Rogers was so young.”

 

“It sounds rather like you were made for each other,” Peggy said, and she sounded so genuinely pleased that Bucky found himself blushing. “I would be happy to get you a copy of the list. Can I have your email address?”

 

***

 

Bucky went to work Saturday afternoon, Nat offering to drive him in since she was done baking for the day. Steve had tried to insist on picking Bucky up and taking him, but when Bucky asked if he was still working, he had admitted that yes, he was, so Bucky assured him that Nat would get him there safely. “She’s even made me dinner to take with me. No one would dare cross Nat when she’s in Mama Bear Mode,” Bucky laughed. “I’ll see you at closing time, Stevie.”

 

“I’ll be there, sweetheart,” Steve said softly. “I need my baby back.”

 

Bucky practically floated through his hours at the bookstore, his co-workers teasing him good-naturedly about the dreamy expression on his face. The time passed surprisingly quickly, and soon Steve was walking in the front door, smiling excitedly. After a little more light-hearted ribbing from his friends, they finished up, closed and locked the doors, and went home.

 

Back at Steve’s place, they cuddled together on the sofa for a while, just kissing and snuggling. “So glad you’re here,” Steve murmured quietly.

 

“I’m glad to be here,” Bucky replied, smiling. “I brought some extra clothes with me to leave here, is that okay?”

 

“Yes, of course, it’s okay,” Steve said, grinning. “Actually, I—I wanted to talk to you about that.”

 

“About what? My clothes?” Bucky asked with a confused smile.

 

“I did some errands today,” Steve said, and his smile looked a little nervous. “I got something for you.”

 

“Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, giving him a lopsided smile, “I’ve told you, you don’t need to buy me things to keep me here.”

 

“Well,” Steve said, chuckling, “what I got you will help you to get in the door.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small metal item. He held up a key. “I want you to have this.”

 

“You want me to have a key? To your apartment?” Bucky asked, wide-eyed.

 

“I want this to be your apartment, too, sweetheart,” Steve said softly.

 

“Really?” Bucky said, stunned. “Like, full-time?”

 

“Full-time,” Steve replied. “I want you to live here, with me. I know it might seem a little fast, Buck, but I’ve gotta tell you something, ‘cause it’s just about burstin’ out of me every time I see you,” he paused, taking a breath. “Bucky, I lo—“

 

His words were cut off as Bucky threw himself into Steve’s arms, pushing him to lie back on the couch, and two lush, soft, sweet, warm, perfect lips were suddenly on his. Bucky was sprawled on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, kissing him as if he needed Steve more than he needed air to breathe.

 

Finally, Bucky pulled away just enough for them to pull in some oxygen, and he whispered, “I love you, Stevie.”

 

Two big, warm hands gently cupped his face, and he could feel the smile on Steve’s lips as he kissed him once, then again, before he heard Steve say, “I love you, Bucky. So, so much.” He laughed softly. “God, I‘ve been wanting to tell you that for…for forever, it feels like.”

 

Then they were smiling, and kissing, and laughing, and kissing some more, the both of them saying, “I love you” over and over and grinning like idiots.

 

After several minutes, they pulled apart just to look at each other. Steve tucked Bucky’s hair behind his ears and asked, smirking, “You totally tackled me just so you could say it first, didn’t you?”

 

“Maybe a little,” Bucky admitted, laughing, as he lay on Steve’s chest. He was smiling so hard his cheeks literally ached.

 

“Such a brat,” Steve said, grinning widely. He combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, tugging a little at the ends.

 

“But you love me anyway?” Bucky asked, his eyes sliding shut as the delicious sparks and tingles moved up and down his spine.

 

“More and more every day, baby boy.”

 

***

 

The next morning found them lying naked and tangled together in bed, softly and lazily caressing each other’s sleep-warm skin; fingertips trailing over cheekbones and kiss-swollen lips, skimming over ribcages and hips to curl around muscled thighs. The entire night had been spent in each other’s arms; sleeping for a while, then waking to soft kisses and whispered words, then drifting to sleep again, entwined.

 

“Can we just stay here forever?” Bucky asked quietly as dim, gray light came in the window. “I never want to leave this bed.” He lay on his back, Steve blanketing the right half of his body with his warm, solid weight, his right leg between Bucky’s and his head on Bucky’s chest. Steve's right arm was curled around the brunet’s ribcage and his fingers gently traced over the scar on the back of his shoulder. Bucky’s left leg was curled up and over Steve’s hip, holding him close. He traced over the muscles in Steve’s back with his left hand, his right hand lightly combing through golden hair.

 

Steve smiled sleepily, turning his head to kiss Bucky’s sternum. “That sounds like an excellent idea.” He kissed his chest again, and then moved to roll completely over top of him, stretching up to kiss his plush, red lips. “I am completely on board with that plan.”

 

Bucky gently swept back the blond hair that was hanging down into Steve’s eyes, then let his fingers comb through the soft whiskers of his beard. “I love you,” he said, looking up into the bright blue eyes that were smiling down at him.

 

“I love you back,” Steve replied, leaning down to kiss him softly. Their lips brushed lightly against each other’s, little hums and contented sighs passing back and forth.

 

Bucky’s hands trailed down Steve’s sides before resting at the small of his back, barely pressing down. Steve settled properly between Bucky’s thighs, aligning their gradually thickening shafts and swallowing the little moan that escaped Bucky’s throat. He smiled against Bucky’s lips and whispered, “You make the prettiest sounds, baby boy.”

 

Bucky’s back arched, just enough to press his stiffening erection against Steve’s. “Daddy,” he whimpered softly, and Steve shivered, his stomach clenching as swift and sudden heat pooled in his lower abdomen.

 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he chuckled a little breathlessly, “only you could get me hard as a rock with a single word.”

 

Bucky smiled, still a little sleepy, but just so happy and in love, that all Steve could do was stare at his beautiful boy; his big, blue-grey eyes, clear and sparkling, framed with those thick, gorgeous lashes, strands of sleep-tousled hair falling across his pink cheeks, soft, plush, full, rosy lips that were smiling and just begging to be kissed. Resting his weight on his forearms, Steve caressed his cheeks with his thumbs; his fingertips trailing along his jawline, the several days’ worth of facial hair growth tickling his fingers. “So beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss him again.

 

It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated, passion quickly igniting and burning away any residual sleepiness. Steve began moving down, nipping and sucking tiny marks along Bucky’s collarbone and sternum, then shifting to lick over Bucky’s nipple with the flat of his tongue. The smaller man arched sharply, gasping, “Oh, Jesus!”

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, the tiny vibrations causing Bucky to emit a high-pitched squeak. He huffed a laugh, moving back and forth, kissing, sucking, and licking one nipple while gently rolling and pinching the other with his fingers as his little boy writhed and squirmed underneath him. “Someday soon,” Steve said, his voice rumbling deep and dark, “I’m going to play with these pretty pink nipples until you come. I’ll bet you can, just from this, can’t you, baby doll? Without even touching your cock.”

 

Bucky moaned loudly, his head thrown back, “ _Fuck,_ Daddy, anything, I’ll do anything for you, I promise.”

 

“What a sweet little boy I have,” Steve grinned, letting the edge of his teeth graze the hard peak. He sucked hard for a moment, listening to Bucky cry out, before moving down, away from his sensitive chest. He paused when Bucky whined, saying, “You are my sweet little boy, aren’t you? Gonna be good for Daddy?”

 

“I’ll be good, Daddy, I’ll be good,” he murmured, sounding completely wrecked. His hips rolled as Steve moved down his body, his swollen shaft rubbing up against Steve’s chest. The big blond smiled, laying open-mouthed kisses along Bucky’s ribcage before sucking tiny marks along his sides and nibbling at his hipbones. He moved all around Bucky’s abdomen, hips, and thighs, circling the hard, red cock that twitched every time Steve’s mouth got close to it. Clear pre-fluid was already smeared across the head and running down the shaft, dripping onto Bucky’s abdomen and pooling under his navel.

 

“So gorgeous, baby,” Steve whispered gutturally, gently nudging Bucky’s thighs to spread them wider. He ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of Bucky’s A-belt, smiling as the man underneath him whined softly. “Look at you, so needy, so hard,” he said, finally kissing the base of Bucky’s shaft. Bucky flinched violently, his hips jerking, so Steve trapped his leg under his left arm, holding it down. “Stay still, baby boy,” he said softly, resting his left hand on Bucky’s stomach and tracing the outline of his abdominal muscles with his fingertips.

 

“So goddamn pretty. I can just picture you in some silky panties, your cock so hard inside them, getting them all wet and messy.” He trailed the fingers of his right hand lightly over Bucky’s dick, biting his lip as it jumped under his hand. “Some red silk panties would look beautiful on you. I love you in red,” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

 

“ _Fucking hell,_ ” Bucky gritted out, his teeth clenched, as every muscle in his body attempted to arch off the bed. Steve held him down easily, and Bucky’s moans of pleasure made Steve’s shaft throb almost painfully.

 

“Do you like that idea, sweetheart? Wearing something pretty for me?” Steve grinned, palming his boyfriend’s balls and giving them a little tug.

 

“ _Yes_ , Daddy, so much,” he groaned, the muscles in his legs and ass flexing and relaxing rhythmically.

 

“So perfect for me, my little love,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss his way from the base of Bucky’s shaft up to the leaking, swollen tip, his fingertips teasing the soft skin of his sack. He licked gently along the frenulum, keeping an eye on Bucky’s hands, which were clutching the bed sheets in a death grip.

 

Bucky was panting, trying so hard to keep still that his muscles were straining. When Steve finally took the head of Bucky’s cock in his mouth, sucking gently, the brunet cried out from the overwhelming sensation. “You taste so good, darlin’,” Steve purred, swirling his tongue over the velvety soft skin, licking up the fluid that beaded at the slit.

 

Bucky’s chest was heaving, every exhalation a moan; his skin was flushed pink, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow. “You’re so gorgeous like this,” Steve murmured, gripping the base of Bucky’s shaft. “I love to watch you fall apart for me.” He pumped Bucky’s cock firmly, his saliva and Bucky’s pre-fluid easing the glide. When he took the swollen tip in his mouth again and slowly dropped all the way down to the base, his nose nuzzling into the short, soft hairs of the brunet’s lower abdomen, Bucky shouted, a desperate, almost frantic sound.

 

Steve popped off, pumping with his hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

 

A tear escaped the corner of Bucky’s eye as he looked at Steve. “No, Daddy, please don’t stop, _please,_ I need to come so bad.”

 

“Does it feel good, baby?”

 

“So— _god_ , it feels so good, _please_ —“

 

“What do you want, little love? Tell Daddy what you want.”

 

“Can—can I touch you, Daddy?”

 

Steve looked at him in surprise. Bucky looked strung out; his whole body flushed pink with arousal, panting heavily, lips swollen and red from kisses, his eyelashes sparkling with moisture. He was absolutely glorious, and Steve felt enormous pride that he had done this; he had reduced the sexiest, most beautiful man he’d ever known to a begging, writhing mess.

 

“Of course you can touch me, baby,” Steve said, noting the relief on Bucky’s face. “You can always touch me.”

 

Bucky wrapped both of his hands around Steve’s forearm, which was still resting across his stomach and holding him down. When Steve leaned down and kissed Bucky’s hand, he smiled. “Thank you, Daddy,” he whispered.

 

“Anything for you, angel face,” Steve replied. “Now, what else does my little boy want?”

 

“Please let me come, Daddy,” Bucky said, his words ending on a whine.

 

“This pretty cock needs to come, huh, baby boy?” Steve said, pumping firmly.

 

“Yes, please!” he cried, his head falling back.

 

“Say it, sweetheart,” Steve said, the steely tone in his voice leaving no room for argument. “Tell Daddy what you need.”

 

“Please suck my cock, Daddy, please, it feels so good,” Bucky moaned, trying to thrust his hips upward.

 

Steve groaned, taking Bucky into his mouth all the way down to the root, letting him slide into his throat. Bucky shouted jaggedly, his fingers curling tightly as Steve swallowed around his shaft.

 

“Oh, _fuck,_ Steve! Oh, my god, that feels so—fuck, _fuck,_ I’m gonna—I’m gonna come, please, Daddy, please don’t stop, _pleeeease!_ ”

 

Steve felt Bucky pulsing and jerking as he screamed, his orgasm slamming through him. Steve held him down, pumping and sucking hard, swallowing down the hot spurts, determined to milk everything out of him.

 

It seemed to go on and on, Bucky clutching at Steve’s hand and arm where it lay across his hips, as if holding on for dear life. He was completely undone, begging for Steve to…to what? Stop? Never stop? He didn’t know, until it suddenly became too much and the overstimulation had his legs kicking out desperately.

 

“Oh, god, I can’t, I can’t, please, Stevie, oh, fuck,” Bucky rambled helplessly, his hips trying to angle away from Steve’s mouth. It took him a few seconds to realize that Steve had already released him from his lips, and that his dick was now lying across his thigh, slowly softening, while Steve kissed his way quickly up Bucky’s torso.

 

“Can I, baby? Can I?” Steve asked, a sense of urgency to his voice. He slotted his red, angry-looking shaft alongside Bucky’s, slowly rutting against him.

 

“Yeah, Daddy,” Bucky answered raggedly, sounding all fuzzy and out of breath. He was floating, having apparently just come so hard that his brain needed to do a complete reboot. He blinked blearily at Steve, who was hovering over him, and smiled, saying, “I love you, Stevie.”

 

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Steve said roughly, dropping down on to his elbows. He kissed Bucky as he rolled his hips, getting the friction he needed so badly. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

 

Bucky wrapped his arms loosely around Steve’s shoulders, kissing him and humming happily as he tasted himself on Steve’s lips and tongue. He arched his back slightly, grinning as Steve’s breath stuttered briefly. “You gonna come, Daddy?” he asked, his words coming out as a syrupy sweet and gravelly drawl.

 

“Yeah, yeah, oh, fuck,” Steve gritted out. “My gorgeous baby, fuck, I love you so much I just can’t fuckin’ stand it, need you, need you so— _fuck,_ I’m gonna come—oh god, baby, _ahh!_ ”

 

Steve stiffened, his forehead against Bucky’s jaw, his eyes clenched shut, holding him so close he could barely breathe, as his hips jerked erratically. Bucky felt the wet heat of Steve’s release between their abdomens and he practically purred, nuzzling the side of Steve’s face and sighing contentedly. He was so loose and relaxed, even as he held Steve through his shuddering climax, that he didn’t hear the buzzing of Steve’s phone on the bedside table.

 

When Steve finally came down, his body resting heavily on Bucky’s and breathing hard, the buzzing had already stopped, and Bucky exhaled with obvious satisfaction, “That was awesome.”

 

“Every day,” Steve replied tiredly, turning his head just enough to kiss Bucky’s throat, “I want every day to start like this.”

 

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed in agreement, trailing his fingers up and down Steve’s spine. “That sounds like a mighty fine idea,” he said, smiling.

 

“So you’ll move in? Here, with me?” Steve asked cautiously, almost holding his breath.

 

Bucky was quiet for a few moments before speaking. “I’ll need to figure out transportation, and I might need to adjust my work schedule, which I can’t really do until after the holidays,” he said, “and you’re going to be working in Manhattan for a couple of months, at least, but if you wouldn’t mind me being around all the time, then yes,” he smiled. “I would love to move in with you, Stevie.”

 

Steve’s grin was brighter than the sunlight that was now shining through the curtains, and he kissed Bucky in absolute joy. When he pulled back to look happily down at his love, they both heard Steve’s phone buzzing. “Ignore it,” Steve said huskily, kissing him again. “If it’s important, they’ll call back.”

 

Not thirty seconds later, both of their phones started buzzing.

 

Pulling back to look at each other in confusion, they each reached for their phones, Steve rolling over, onto his back. Bucky looked at his screen and said, “Tony Stark?”

 

Steve looked at his phone and said, “Yup, mine, too.” He swiped to answer. “Tony?”

 

“What the hell, Rogers? Were you still sleeping?” Tony’s voice came over the speaker. “And why isn’t Little Bucket answering? Where is he? Is he okay?”

 

“He’s fine, Tony, he’s right here,” Steve said roughly, rubbing his eyes as Bucky snuggled into his side, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and mumbling a semi-coherent greeting toward the phone. Steve wrapped his arm around him, kissing his forehead.

 

“Damn, Rogers, your voice is seriously—wait a minute. Were you two just having sex?” he cried gleefully.

 

“Dammit, Tony,” Steve groaned as Bucky snickered. “We were not, well, not _just_ —“

 

“Wow. I’m getting an incredibly inappropriate boner from your sex voice,” Tony said, making Bucky bark out a laugh as Steve blushed furiously, “so I’m going to make you stop talking now so I can concentrate and tell you what’s going on. Klein sent me a list of the names of all the people who had rental trucks on Manhattan the night the office was torched. I don’t recognize any of them, but you and Bucky Lou need to take a look at it.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said. “How big is the list?”

 

“A few dozen. I asked him not to include occupations, because we’re still waiting on whoever has the CPUs to try and break into them,” Tony said.

 

“Gotcha. Have you sent it already?”

 

“Should be in your email inbox,” Tony replied.

 

“Okay, hold on,” Steve said, getting up and starting to walk out the bedroom door before detouring to the closet to grab a robe. Bucky got up and retrieved his clothes from the floor, pulling on his briefs and pajama pants and t-shirt, after quickly wiping off the drying fluids on his stomach.

 

By the time Bucky reached the second bedroom, Steve was sitting at his desk, opening his email account. Steve set the phone down on the desk and turned the speaker on. When Bucky was within arm’s reach, Steve gently tugged him closer, pulling him down onto his lap and wrapping his arm around his waist. He opened the file Tony had sent, navigating the program with one hand. “Okay, Tony, I have the file. We’re looking through it.”

 

For the next couple of minutes, both Steve and Bucky looked at every name on the list, hoping to see someone they recognized, even superficially. By the time they reached the end, though, nothing had jumped out at them.

 

“Sorry, Tony, none of these names looks familiar to me at all,” Steve sighed.

 

“Not to me, either,” Bucky said, leaning back against Steve’s chest.

 

“The only one I thought might be connected to Pierce was…” he paused, scrolling back up the alphabetized list, “Renata Goodwin. His assistant’s name is Renata, but I don’t think her last name is Goodwin. I’m pretty sure it’s Garcia.”

 

“I’ll have Klein look at it anyway,” Tony said. “You never know.”

 

“Okay, thanks, Tony,” Steve said, hugging Bucky close. “Let us know if anything else happens, okay?”

 

“Will do. So what are you two cutie pies up to today?” Tony asked. “You and Sam footballing it up?”

 

“I think so,” Steve replied, before nuzzling Bucky’s arm. “Is there anything you need to do today, baby?”

 

“Couple errands, that’s all,” he answered, before adding with a snicker, “and showering.”

 

“Yeah, we should do that,” Steve laughed.

 

“Okay, you two, not when I’m on the phone,” Tony scolded jokingly. “Unless you want to FaceTime, then by all means—“

 

“Bye, Tony!” Steve said loudly, before hitting the button to disconnect as Bucky laughed.

 

“He’s not really serious with all that, is he?” Bucky asked as he got up from Steve’s lap and stood beside him.

 

“I don’t think so,” Steve shrugged as he got to his feet and took Bucky’s hand, walking from the room, “but I would never put it to a dare.”

 

***

 

After going to the grocery store and the drug store, Steve and Bucky went over to Sam’s place to watch the early afternoon game. Sam’s eyes grew wide when he opened the door to the two men holding hands and a six-pack of beer each, bickering in the hallway.

 

“Stevie, you have to let me pay for the dresser. It’s for _my clothes,_ ” Bucky stated firmly.

 

“It’s not a big deal, Buck, really,” Steve replied, shrugging.

 

“If it’s not a big deal, then why are you arguing with me about it?” Bucky asked in exasperation.

 

They both nodded to Sam, handing him the beer, as they walked in. “Because you are paying back student loans, and I’m not,” Steve said, stopping to take off his jacket and shoes. As Bucky did the same, he continued. “Besides, it was my idea, so I get to do this.”

 

“But you do this with _everything,_ Stevie,” Bucky said, actually looking a little upset. “You never let me pay for anything.”

 

Steve took the two six-packs back from Sam and headed for the kitchen, Bucky right on his heels. “I refer back to my first argument, that I enjoy doing things for you,” he said.

 

“But I don’t want you to think you _need_ to do this to make me happy,” Bucky said, his voice quieting as they put a wall between them and the couple still in the front room.

 

“I don’t, sweetheart, I swear,” Steve said, before his voice dropped as well.

 

Sam sat down in the living room with Maria, whose eyebrows were arched in surprise. “Are they actually having an argument?” she asked quietly, even though the sound of the football announcers on the TV made it essentially impossible to be overheard from the other room.

 

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Sam chuckled. “I don’t know if it can really be called an argument when they’re still throwing heart-eyes at each other.”

 

From the kitchen they heard Bucky say loudly, “Don’t even try it, Steven Grant. Those sad eyes are not going to work on me.” A minute later, he stomped out and sat on the couch, his arms folded over his chest. He looked at Sam. “Has he always been such a stubborn ass?”

 

Sam snorted as Maria threw back her head and cackled. “Oh, Bucky,” Sam laughed, “stubborn is his default setting. I was sure you’d figured that out by now.”

 

“Me?” Steve said, walking into the room with two opened bottles. He handed one to Bucky, then sat down right next to him, his arm curling around Bucky’s shoulder and tucking him in close to his side. “You’re gonna call _me_ stubborn? You’re just as bad as I am, ya little brat.” He kissed the side of Bucky’s head.

 

“Only when I’m right,” Bucky pouted, curling his legs in and nuzzling against Steve’s cheek.

 

“This is the cutest fight I’ve ever seen,” Maria declared.

 

“You tried to use the sad eyes on him, Steve?” Sam _tsked,_ shaking his head. “That’s dirty pool, man.”

 

Steve was quiet for a few moments, even though he was smiling and shaking his head. “Half,” he said at last. “Is that okay?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Bucky said, grinning up at him.

 

Steve smiled at him, his emotions clearly written all over his face. “I love you,” he said softly, though it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him.

 

Bucky’s grin was blinding. “I love you, too,” he replied, tipping his head up to receive the kiss that Steve was dropping on his lips.

 

Sam and Maria both looked at the two men with undisguised glee. “Oh, my god, _you guys,_ ” Sam squealed, reaching over to clutch Maria’s hands in his, “what did we just hear?”

 

Steve huffed a laugh, then sighed with a huge smile on his face. “It’s been an eventful twenty-four hours,” he said, chuckling at the joy all over Sam and Maria’s faces.

 

After giving their friends the good news of their impending cohabitation, Sam jumped up to grab drinks for himself and Maria so that they could toast Steve and Bucky. Once they had all had a drink and settled in to watch the game, Maria said, “We have some news on our two suspects, if you’d like to hear it.”

 

“News?” Bucky asked, sitting up quickly. “What’s going on?”

 

“Well, it’s news, just not great news,” Maria said ruefully. “There’s still no sign of them or the car, and we’ve found out that mail to both of their residences was put on indefinite hold the day before Rumlow grabbed you.”

 

“So he wasn’t planning to go back to his place, even if he had been able to—to take me,” Bucky said, swallowing hard. Steve wrapped both arms around him and held on, feeling the shudder that passed through Bucky’s body. “Jesus,” he exhaled shakily.

 

“It definitely looks like they had an alternate destination in mind,” Maria nodded.

 

“God, Stevie, I’m so lucky you were there,” Bucky said, leaning fully against Steve’s big, warm body.

 

Steve pulled Bucky onto his lap and rubbed his hands up and down his back. “I’ll always be here,” he said soothingly.

 

“We’ve expanded our search and sent alerts out to every county within a twelve-hour drive, including the RCMP,” Maria said. “If they’re out there hiding, they’ll need to come out eventually.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “I appreciate it.” He leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder, snuggling close. “At least we know he’s probably not around here anymore.”

 

“Don’t slack off on your safety,” Maria cautioned him. “Until we get them behind bars, you need to stay on your toes.”

 

“We will,” Steve nodded, his arms tightly around the boy that owned his heart.

 

***

 

As soon as all of his employees were gathered and seated in the common area of their temporary offices in Stark Tower on Monday morning, Steve stood up to talk to them with Tony, Peggy and Sam at his side. “Thank you all for being here today,” he began. “I know this is a big change, and I also know many of you have questions about what happened last week. I can’t tell you a whole lot, because it is an active police investigation, but I can tell you that two people broke in to the office and intentionally set several fires. Luckily, no one was hurt. Who they were, why they did it, we don’t know yet; there are several possible reasons, none of which I can talk about. I would appreciate it if you would try not to discuss it outside of the office, as it may cause problems with the investigation.”

 

He looked at the floor briefly, a sad expression coming over his face. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this. I know a lot of you lost personal items, and I will do what I can to replace what you’ve lost, or at least try to repair them if we can. Please go to Peter—“ he gestured to his assistant, who stood up and waved at everyone, “—if there’s anything you’re still missing. The boxes of items we recovered are here if you need to look through them.

 

“We have four rooms off this main hallway set aside for our use,” Steve said, pointing at the hallway behind him. “One room each has been set up for the artists, the writers, and the editors. The last room is for Peggy, Sam, Peter, Darcy, and myself, and that’s where we are holding all the boxes as well. The rooms are marked, as are all your new workstations. You should have everything you need installed already. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

 

Darcy put her hand up. “Yeah, Darce?” Steve said.

 

“Will Bucky be bringing snacks again?” she asked. “’Cause those were awesome.”

 

Steve smiled and blushed a bit, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets, as several people cheered and whistled good-naturedly. “I’ll see what I can do,” he chuckled.

 

The next week was extremely busy and full of long hours, as Steve, Peggy, Sam, Peter, and Darcy went through the boxes of loose paperwork that had been recovered at the office and began sorting them into their proper files. Thankfully, Peg’s filing cabinets had suffered only minor damage, the financial paperwork within still in one piece. Unfortunately, Peter’s area, being in close proximity to both Steve’s and Sam’s cubicles, and Darcy’s area, by the front door, had been hit hard. Luckily, all of Peter’s work for the upcoming issues was on the server and only printouts of schedules that were hanging up in his cubicle were lost. Darcy’s paperwork had been scattered over a wide area and took several days to straighten out.

 

Tony had gotten everyone set up with new computers right away, the editors and artists all getting back to work as quickly as possible. Steve made sure they were all on task so that no deadlines were missed, then sat down with his writers to discuss upcoming issues.

 

Bucky spent every free moment he had during the week searching comic and art blogs for Steve’s artwork, writing posts about the fire at SHIELD Publications and the loss of so much original work. “Please,” he wrote, “if you have any of the pieces on this list or any others that you would be willing to discuss donating or selling, contact username AgentOfSHIELD.” He’d had quite a few responses already, many people looking to help out. He did make an Uber trip on Thursday, his day off, to see the temporary offices and bring a big box of goodies for the staff, and everyone thanked him profusely, Darcy even kissing his cheek.

 

Since Steve needed to drive to the Tower in mid-town Manhattan every day, his morning commute was made even longer, so Bucky thought he should still stay with Nat and Clint on days that he opened at the bookstore. “If you take me to work and then go to the Tower, that’s going to more than double your normal commute time,” Bucky had argued. “I could take the train or even Uber some days—“

 

“I don’t want you going in alone with Rumlow still out there,” Steve said. “It is more than worth the extra time to get to be with you every night and make sure you’re safe.”

 

“I still need to pack up my things anyway,” Bucky insisted. “I’ll tell you what. When everything has settled down a bit, after I talk to Nick about my schedule, then I’ll move in permanently.” He kissed Steve’s pouty bottom lip. “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too, baby,” Steve replied, holding him close.

 

***

 

On late Friday afternoon, Steve was having a weekly wrap-up meeting with his editors when Tony came down to the twelfth floor. “Rogers,” he said, poking his head into the office. “We need to talk, pronto.”

 

Steve excused himself from the meeting and met Tony in the hallway. “What’s up?” he asked, frowning in concern at Tony’s obvious agitation.

 

“We finally got a hit on someone trying to break into the hard drives late this morning.”

 

Steve stiffened immediately. “You know who it is?” he asked quietly.

 

“We have a location. This person has a dedicated IP that is linked to a street address. Looks like a residence. I called Klein right away so he could move on it. He just called to let me know they executed a search warrant on the property and they’ve brought someone in. I’m meeting him at the precinct station in an hour. Thought you might want to be there.”

 

“Absolutely,” Steve said, folding his arms across his chest. “I need to make a couple of phone calls, but I’ll meet you at the elevator in thirty minutes.”

 

“Do your thing, see you in thirty,” Tony replied, heading back to the elevator.

 

Half an hour later, Tony and Steve were driving through Friday evening traffic. Steve had called Bucky to tell him what was going on, and that he wasn’t going to be able to get to the bookstore in time for his dinner break. He followed that up with a call to Maria, who said she would get hold of Phil.

 

It took them about twenty minutes to get from the Tower to the 1st Precinct station in Lower Manhattan. Detective Klein met them at the front desk. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

 

“What have you found out?” Steve asked.

 

“First off, we looked at Renata Goodwin—the name from the list? No connection we could find to Pierce’s assistant.” When Steve nodded, Klein continued. “The address Mister Stark gave us this morning—you have the tracking information?” he asked Tony, who held up his laptop case with a smile. “That address led us to the man we’re talking to in Interrogation Room One. His name is Jasper Sitwell.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the overwhelmingly positive response to this story! I've got some ideas for one-shots and maybe even a sequel written up, because I definitely don't think I can leave these boys behind. They're just too sweet. :D


	16. That's Got Everything to Do With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out!

 

“Jasper Sitwell?” Steve echoed, shaking his head. “I remember his name from the list you sent us, but I don’t know him.”

 

“No reason why you should,” Klein said. “According to him, he works for a group called AIM.”

 

“AIM?” Tony asked, his eyebrow raised. “Advanced Idea Mechanics?”

 

Klein checked his paperwork. “That’s the one. Says his boss is a guy named Aldrich Killian.”

 

“That’s technically true,” Tony said, smirking while shaking his head, “but it’s not the whole truth.”

 

“How so?” Klein asked, gesturing for Tony and Steve to follow him back into the station. They walked past the front desk and down a hallway that led to several rooms, many with closed doors. They entered a room with a two-way mirror that looked into another room with a table and four chairs, currently occupied by two men; one police officer who stood by the door, and another bald, bespectacled man seated at the table who was looking around with a bored expression.

 

“AIM contracts out its workers to the highest bidder,” Tony said. “Killian calls my HR department every once in a while to see if we need IT help. We always say no. We won’t work with them.”

 

“Why not?” Steve asked, frowning.

 

“I don’t trust Killian at all. It’s never been proven, but there have been whispers that he pays his people extra if they pick up inside information from the people hiring them—that Killian then sells to their competitors.” Tony’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Dirty business.”

 

“Mister Sitwell just happens to have listed his occupation as ‘IT Specialist,’” Klein said, nodding. “So if he works for the highest bidder, we just need to find out who that is.”

 

“I’ll give you one guess,” Steve muttered angrily. He turned to Klein. “Was he one of the men in the truck?”

 

“He rented it, but he’s not talking yet, other than denying having any knowledge of the origins of the hard drives in question—which we found at his residence, in a workshop,” Klein said.

 

“Well, I can show him some proof,” Tony grinned. “May I?”

 

“By all means, sir,” Klein smiled, gesturing toward a closed door. “After you.”

 

The look of shock on Jasper Sitwell’s face when Tony Stark walked into the interrogation room with Detective Klein was almost enough to make Tony laugh.

 

“Good evening, Mister Sitwell,” Tony said, setting his laptop case down on the table. “Do you know who I am?”

 

“You’re—you’re Tony Stark,” he stammered, looking around nervously. “Why are you here?”

 

“I’m here because you broke into my best friend’s office, stole his computers, and set fire to the place,” Tony said, giving the man seated at the table his best _YOU’RE A DEAD MAN_ face. Steve knew that face—he’d seen it directed at more than one person over the years—and he knew how intimidating it could be.

 

“I didn’t break into anything,” Sitwell said. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“The three computer CPUs that we found at your home,” Klein said, “are the property of SHIELD Publications, and were stolen during a robbery and arson a week and a half ago.”

 

“I don’t know anything about it,” Sitwell asserted, shaking his head. A thin sheen of sweat started to form on his forehead.

 

“How did you come to be in possession of these computers?” Klein asked.

 

“I’ve never seen them before today,” Sitwell said, and Tony rolled his eyes before opening his laptop and entering several keystrokes.

 

“So who was trying to access the hard drives?” Tony asked.

 

“I have no idea. Someone left them at my house,” Sitwell retorted.

 

“Who? Does anyone else live there?” Klein asked.

 

“No, no one,” Sitwell said. “I live alone.”

 

“So you were the only one there,” Tony stated flatly, watching as a program run.

 

“I, well,” he stopped, clearing his throat. “Yes, but—”

 

“Those CPUs have heavily encrypted hard drives,” Tony cut in, entering a command, “and when unauthorized people try to access them, they send out a little distress signal that I can trace.”

 

Sitwell looked at him blankly. “What?”

 

“Yup,” Tony said. “You thought you were breaking into the hard drive, when really you were getting nothing but static—“ he turned the laptop around so Sitwell could see the screen, “—and I was tracing your location.”

 

Sitwell watched silently as the program that was running finished, ending with his street address loading as the result.

 

“I can prove not only that you were illegally trying to access these hard drives, I can even tell you what kind of equipment you were using to do it. So, Jasper,” Tony said, “are you _really_ going to claim that you had no idea they were there? Are you _really_ going to be the one to take the blame for the break-in, the theft, and the fire? All of it?”

 

“We already know you rented the truck that was filmed at the crime scene,” Klein said, taking a seat at the table next to Tony. He set a copy of the rental agreement down in front of Sitwell, his signature at the bottom.

 

Sitwell didn’t move, other than his eyes, which shifted from the laptop screen, to the rental agreement, to Tony, and then to Detective Klein. “It wasn’t my idea,” he finally said with a defeated sigh. “I had no idea what they were planning when my boss told me to rent the truck.”

 

“Who’s your boss?” Klein asked.

 

Sitwell was quiet for a moment, and inside the observation room, Steve was tensed up, waiting to hear the name of the man responsible.

 

“Your boss at AIM?” Klein asked. “Aldrich Killian?”

 

“No, not him,” Sitwell said, shaking his head, “the boss I’m contracted to. At Mandarin House Publishers.”

 

Steve jolted. His jaw dropped as the next two words came out of Sitwell’s mouth.

 

“Sharon Carter.”

 

***

 

Tony entered the room, set down his laptop, and took Steve in his arms, giving him a big hug. Steve was stiff, completely stunned by what he had heard. “I can’t believe this,” Steve whispered. “How could she—why would—I don’t—“ he stammered.

 

“Sit down, Steve, come on,” Tony urged, moving him backwards toward a chair. Steve sat down heavily, his legs seeming to give out from underneath him.

 

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, frowning in confusion, looking at Tony. “Why would she do this?”

 

“I’m going to get you some water, okay, Steve?” Tony said, patting his shoulder. “Just breathe, pal. I’ll be right back.”

 

Steve was leaning over, his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, when Tony slipped out to find a water cooler. While he was looking, he called Peggy and Sam, letting them know what was happening. They both said they would come to the station immediately. He also called Bucky.

 

“Hey, Buckbeak, it’s Tony,” he said.

 

“Tony?” Bucky said, confused. “Hi, what’s going on?”

 

“What time do you get off work? I’m going to send Happy for you.”

 

“I get off at eleven,” he replied, getting worried. “What happened?”

 

“We found the guy that had the computers,” Tony said quietly. “Steve needs you.”

 

“I—the store closes at ten. I can lock everything up and go then,” Bucky said. He was walking quickly back to the office, trying to figure out everything he could do before the store closed to get out faster.

 

“He’ll be there,” Tony said.

 

After ending the call, Bucky went into the office and grabbed that day’s duty sheet. “Okay, guys,” he said to himself as he walked back out onto the floor, “let’s get out of here in record time tonight.”

 

***

 

Tony got Steve a cup of water and went back to the observation room. Steve hadn’t moved, still holding his head in his hands. “Here you go, buddy,” he said, handing Steve the water cup.

 

He sat up slowly. “Thanks,” he said, his voice ragged. His eyes were red and he was sniffling. He drank the water quickly, Tony standing by his side with his hand on his shoulder. When he was done, he sighed heavily. “Sam on his way?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, and Peg, too,” Tony answered. Steve nodded. “He say anything else?” Tony asked, tilting his head toward the interrogation room.

 

“Not really,” Steve said, sniffling again. “Just that she told him to rent the truck and have it at the loading dock area of her office building on Tuesday night.” He coughed a little. “Klein is taking his preliminary statement.”

 

Tony pulled another chair over and sat next to Steve, clapping him on the shoulder. They sat and waited, and about twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Sam and Peggy came in, both hugging Steve in turns. They refrained from making any comments about what had just come to light, which Steve appreciated. He was just so in shock that he didn’t know what to say.

 

Klein joined them just a couple of minutes later and moved everyone to a conference room, where they would be more comfortable. He told them that they were going to bring Sharon in for questioning, and that they should be arriving some time within the next hour. Steve nodded numbly, while his friends all looked mad enough to spit nails.

 

“Sitwell has admitted to driving the truck and has also told us who the two men were that broke in to the office and set the fire,” Klein said. “I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that it was Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins.”

 

“But how would Sharon even know them?” Steve asked, shaking his head in absolute confusion. “They work for Pierce at Hydra, not Mandarin.”

 

“We will be sure to ask her how she made their acquaintance,” Klein said. “We’ll also do our best to find out where they are now.”

 

“Sitwell didn’t know?” Tony asked.

 

Klein shook his head. “Claims he didn’t know them at all before Tuesday night, and he hasn’t seen them since Wednesday morning after the break-in. He dropped them off back at Mandarin, took the computers to his house, then returned the truck to the rental agency.” He stood up. “I’ll let you know when they bring Miss Carter in.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve said, looking at the table blankly.

 

***

 

Bucky moved like a whirlwind, letting everyone know that they were hauling ass to get out that night as quickly as possible. “I need to go meet Steve, so no messing around.” He called Nick, to let him know that he was closing at ten sharp and leaving as quickly as possible.

 

“Just put the cash drawers in the office safe,” Nick said. “I’ll take care of them in the morning.”

 

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked. That would be a huge help. Counting the cash drawers was exacting and took a while if there was a problem.

 

“I’m sure, go take care of Steve,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon?”

 

“Unless something absolutely awful happens,” Bucky said nervously, “I’ll be here.”

 

He called Nat next and filled her in on what was happening.

 

“Give him a big hug from me,” Nat said, making Bucky smile broadly. Nat didn’t dispense affection easily, so this was pretty much as close to a declaration of love as he would ever hear from her.

 

“Will do, Tash,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning when I know more.”

 

Finally he called Vinnie. “Can I come by and get some sandwiches at about ten o’clock?”

 

“What’s goin’ on, Jamie? You not gettin’ a dinner break tonight?” the big man asked.

 

He told Vinnie about the break-in and fire at Steve’s office. “They just arrested the guy that has the computers, so Steve’s at the police station, and I know he won’t be eating anything. I want to make sure he gets something good in his stomach.”

 

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Jamie, I’ll have it all ready to go when you get here,” he said.

 

By nine-forty-five, Bucky had everything done, short of closing the doors. Happy was waiting outside, and Bucky ran out to tell him that it was only going to be a couple of minutes more. “No problem, Mister Barnes,” he said calmly. “I’ll be out here.”

 

At nine-fifty-five, Bucky did a last check of the upstairs and downstairs to ensure everyone was out, and locked the doors. He grabbed the cash drawers out of the registers, ran them back into the office and locked them in the safe, then he closed and locked the office, grabbed his things, and shooed everyone out the doors. “Everybody out! Let’s go!”

 

He hustled them all out, turned off all the lights, and locked the front doors. “Thank you, everyone! Good night!” he called out, as the other employees left for their cars or the train station, some stopping briefly to watch as Bucky raced over to Happy. “We have one quick stop,” Bucky said, climbing into the back seat. “Two blocks down on the right, Colletta’s Deli.”

 

“You got it,” Happy said, putting the car in drive. Less than thirty seconds later, he pulled up outside the deli and Bucky was leaping from the car before Happy could even open his door.

 

“It should be ready to go, so I just need to pay for it,” Bucky said, shutting the car door and running inside. “Vinnie! I’m here!”

 

“Hey, Jamie! I got your sandwiches ready,” Vinnie said, walking around the counter with two large bags.

 

“Vinnie?” Bucky said in confusion. “I only asked for a couple of sandwiches. What did you do?”

 

“Made sure there was enough for you and Stevie—and anyone else who might be hungry. Sounds like you might be havin’ a long night,” Vinnie said kindly.

 

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Bucky said, nodding. “Thank you.”

 

“Not a problem, Jamie,” Vinnie said, loading the bags into Bucky’s arms. “Go on, now, get goin’.”

 

“Wait, Vinnie,” Bucky said as the big man turned him toward the door, “I need to pay you.”

 

“Not tonight,” Vinnie said. “These are on the house.”

 

“I can’t let you—“ Bucky began to protest.

 

“You can, and you will,” Vinnie said firmly. “Go take care of your guy.” He turned back and grabbed another bag off the counter. “I got some waters for you, too.”

 

“Vinnie,” Bucky started.

 

“Not one word, Jamie,” he said, lightly pushing Bucky toward the door. He followed him out to the car, where Happy was waiting with the rear passenger door open. “Well, well, lookie this,” Vinnie said, chuckling.

 

“This isn’t Steve’s car, Vinnie, calm down,” Bucky laughed. He put everything in the back seat then turned and gave Vinnie a hug. “Thank you, I really appreciate this.”

 

“Not a problem, kiddo. I’ll see ya later,” he said, patting Bucky on the back. “Hope everything pans out.”

 

“Me, too,” Bucky said.

 

Just over twenty minutes later, Happy pulled up outside the 1st Precinct station and helped Bucky carry the food inside. “Have you had anything to eat tonight, Happy?” Bucky asked.

 

“I’m good, Mister Barnes,” Happy replied, opening the door for him.

 

“Well, if you get hungry, there’s plenty, so help yourself,” Bucky said.

 

“Thanks,” he said, smiling.

 

Tony was there, waiting for them by the front desk. “You brought food?” Tony asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

 

“Um, yeah,” Bucky said, blushing slightly. “I figured Steve wouldn’t eat very much otherwise.”

 

“You are a peach,” Tony grinned, taking one of the bags from Happy. “I didn’t think it would be good form to order in a catered dinner.” He led them back to the conference room where they had set up camp.

 

“So what have they found out?” Bucky asked.

 

“Nothing good,” Tony sighed. “We have the guy that was trying to break into the hard drives—he was also the one who rented and drove the truck. He’s talking.”

 

“Good,” Bucky said. “What else has he said?”

 

Tony sighed, his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll let Steve tell you.” He opened the door, and Bucky saw Steve, Peggy, Sam, and even Maria, sitting there, a half-dozen empty coffee cups on the table. “Hey, everyone, I’m back, and I brought a little sunshine with me.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve said, getting to his feet, and Bucky could hear how rough Steve’s voice was.

 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said softly, setting the bags down on the table. He moved immediately to wrap Steve up in his arms and hold him.

 

Steve dropped his forehead onto Bucky’s and took a deep breath. “Hey, baby,” he sighed. After a moment, he picked up his head. “What are you doing here? I thought you were closing tonight.”

 

“I kicked everyone out at closing time and locked the doors,” Bucky smiled.

 

Steve huffed a tired laugh and said, “I had no idea it was that late already.” He kissed the side of Bucky’s head. “How did you get here?”

 

“Tony sent Happy to come get me.”

 

Steve looked over at Tony with a quirked eyebrow. “Did he really?”

 

Tony gave a non-apologetic half-shrug. “You looked like you could use the support.”

 

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Thanks, Tony.”

 

Bucky squeezed Steve tight. “It impressed my co-workers,” he chuckled. “I brought food, too. Vinnie sends his best.”

 

Sam perked up. “Did I hear food?” Maria smacked his arm lightly.

 

“Yes,” Bucky said, turning a bit in Steve’s arms. “Plenty for everyone.”

 

“Bless you,” Sam said, grabbing a bag and pulling it over.

 

Soon everyone was sitting around the table, eating the delicious sandwiches, several people moaning over how good they were. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Steve said, leaning over to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

 

“So what’s going on here?” Bucky asked, rubbing his hand across Steve’s shoulders. “Tony said they found the guy with the computers, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, the corners of his mouth turning down. He filled Bucky in on what they knew to that point—including the confirmation that Rumlow and Rollins were, in fact, the two that had trashed the office—his eyes flashing when he got to the point in the story when Sitwell admitted that he was working for Sharon.

 

“ _What?_ ” Bucky shouted. “Are you _kidding_ me?” He pushed away from the table and stood up angrily. “She seriously thought you’d take her back if SHIELD was gone? That _bitch!_ Where is she?”

 

“Whoa, baby, get back here,” Steve said, looping an arm around Bucky’s waist and reeling him in as he started for the door. Despite Bucky’s protests, he allowed Steve to tug him down onto his lap without too much of a struggle. “She wasn’t at home, probably out for the evening, so Klein’s got two officers waiting for her at her place.”

 

Just then, a knock on the slightly open door drew their attention. Klein came in, nodding to everyone before looking at Steve and Tony. “The officers just reported in. She finally came home, so they’ve got her in custody and are bringing her in right now. Apparently she’s had a couple of drinks, so it could be really interesting.”

 

Pushing the door shut behind him, he looked around, seeing the angry faces, Bucky’s in particular. “I understand you’re all feeling very strongly about this, but I have to caution you against interfering with Miss Carter when she gets here. We need to get answers out of her, preferably before she lawyers up. Do you all understand?”

 

When he was met with nods all around—and a rather disgruntled “Yes,” from Bucky—he said, “Thank you. I’ll let you know when she’s in interrogation.”

 

The minutes passed, and Steve told Bucky that he had informed Klein of Sharon’s visit to their home the previous week. “Guess I can stop wondering how she knew so quickly,” he said. Steve looked around at his friends. “I know it’s late, you guys don’t need to stay if you want to get home.”

 

Bucky tightened his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m staying with you, Stevie,” he said quietly.

 

“You need to work tomorrow,” Steve murmured, resting his forehead against the brunet’s.

 

“Not until afternoon, I’ll be fine,” Bucky said. “I’m staying.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” Sam said, the others agreeing with him. “We’ll head out when they finish up tonight.”

 

It wasn’t too much later that Klein stuck his head back in. “She’s here, if you’d like to watch from the observation room.” He looked at Maria. “You’re sure you don’t want to sit in on the questioning?”

 

Maria shook her head. “She knows I’m friends with Steve. She’ll clam up if she sees me. Phil can handle it.”

 

“Detective Coulson’s here?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows raised.

 

“Yeah, I called him after I talked to Steve,” Maria said. “It’s better if he tries to find out where Rumlow is rather than me. I want to slap her too much.”

 

“Get in line, sister,” Bucky muttered, getting a little laugh out of Steve. He patted Bucky’s knee, and the two men got to their feet.

 

They all filed out of the conference room and headed for the interrogation room when Klein said, “Sitwell will also be in the observation room. I’m hoping she says something to provoke a reaction from him.”

 

When they entered the smaller observation room, it was standing room only. Sitwell sat front and center before the two-way mirror, the best seat in the house for the show that was about to start. The officer by the door nodded at them as they came in.

 

Sharon Carter sat alone at the table in the room on the other side of the glass, her purse and phone sitting on the table beside her. She looked bored, annoyed; Steve watched, his jaw clenched, as she drummed her fingernails on the table, her head slightly tilted to one side as she stared at a slate grey wall across the room.

 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “She’s nervous,” he said quietly.

 

Klein looked at him. “How can you tell?” he asked, looking at her through the glass.

 

“Her left leg,” Steve said. “The calf muscle keeps twitching. She told me once that it was the hardest thing for her to stop moving when she got nervous. After a couple of drinks it’ll be even more difficult.”

 

“She’s got a pretty good poker face, otherwise,” Tony said.

 

“She always was a good actress,” Steve mumbled. Bucky took his hand and squeezed it lightly, drawing a little smile out of the blond man.

 

“You saw through it,” Bucky murmured, propping his chin on Steve’s shoulder. Steve turned and nudged him lovingly, kissing the side of his nose.

 

Klein left them then and walked into the interrogation room. Steve watched as a change overcame Sharon upon catching sight of Detectives Klein and Coulson; she was suddenly self-assured and confident, looking at the detectives with a sweet little smile. Steve huffed a laugh and shook his head.

 

“What?” Bucky asked, frowning slightly.

 

“She thinks she can charm him,” Steve said. “So predictable.”

 

Klein introduced himself and Phil, then sat at the table facing Sharon, while Phil remained standing by the door. “Miss Carter, we asked you to come down to the station tonight to discuss a robbery and arson at the offices of SHIELD Publications,” he began, and Sharon was off.

 

“So horrible,” she said, all concern and sympathy. “Poor Steve, all that hard work, just…gone,” she sighed, and Sam scoffed loudly inside the observation room. “He and I have been very close for years,” Sharon continued, still playing the part of the good friend. “I just don’t know what he’s going to do now that all that work has been destroyed.”

 

“Well, luckily for Mister Rogers, the computers that were stolen have been recovered,” Klein said, not bothering to tell her that the computers had no important information on them anyway.

 

“What? How?” she asked, eyes wide.

 

Klein smiled at her. Just a brief, small, insincere smile. “Anyway,” he continued, looking at his notes, “the individual that was in possession of the stolen computers is in custody. He claims that he was under instructions given to him by his boss.” He looked up at Sharon. “That’s where you come into the story.”

 

“Excuse me?” Sharon narrowed her eyes at Klein. Steve could see her left knee bouncing rapidly under the table.

 

“What we wanted to talk to you about, Miss Carter, are the two men who may have been with the man we’ve been speaking to tonight. We want to talk about Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins.” Klein sat back as Phil walked over and joined them at the table.

 

“Miss Carter, I’m Detective Coulson,” Phil said, taking a seat and setting his file down. He flipped it open. “We are looking for Rumlow and Rollins on charges unrelated to the SHIELD robbery. Serious charges involving assault and attempted kidnapping.”

 

Steve pulled Bucky in front of him, wrapping him in his arms and pulling him close. Sitwell looked around, confused. “Is he serious?” he asked, pointing toward Coulson through the glass.

 

“Quiet,” said the officer by the door.

 

“Now, the information we have states that both Rumlow and Rollins are employees of Hydra Publishing, not Mandarin. How did you come to meet them?” Phil asked, looking as non-threatening as he could.

 

“Well, I—I mean,” she stammered, looking unsure and off-balance. “I don’t know them.”

 

“Bullshit,” Sitwell mumbled. “She was talking to them right in front of me.”

 

Phil slid two mug shot photos across the table to her. Her jaw clenched, just a bit, and she swallowed. Phil sat there, watching her, an absolute lack of any kind of expression on his face. He just sat there, waiting. And waiting. Sharon dropped her hands to her lap in an attempt to stop her leg from jittering. It didn’t work.

 

“I don’t know them,” she announced loudly, losing a bit of her calm demeanor. “So, if that’s all you wanted to ask me about—“

 

“You went to Steve Rogers’ home the evening following the robbery and arson, is that correct?” Klein asked, cutting her off. She stopped talking abruptly and stared at him. “To offer your condolences?”

 

“Well, yes,” Sharon said, feeling confident in this answer. “Like I said, we’ve been close for years.”

 

“How did you know about it so quickly?” Klein asked. “It had only been fifteen or sixteen hours—it hadn’t even appeared in any newspapers yet.”

 

“I must have heard from someone,” Sharon said.

 

“Who?” Coulson asked calmly.

 

“I don’t know,” she said, waving her hand about. “People talk, you hear things.”

 

“Someone as well connected as you,” Klein said, smiling, “you must know a lot of people, hear a lot of things.”

 

“That’s true,” Sharon said, allowing the little bit of flattery to soothe her ego.

 

“Did Alexander Pierce introduce you to Rumlow and Rollins before or after you tried to set up a meeting between him and Steve Rogers?” Coulson asked casually, looking at his notes.

 

“Af—“

 

Bucky clutched Steve’s wrist where it was resting across his midsection. Everyone held their breath.

 

Sharon sat there, her mouth just slightly open. Several seconds passed before she exhaled shakily, slumping back into the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in. “I think I would like to speak to my lawyer,” she said quietly.

 

“Where are Rumlow and Rollins?” Coulson asked, his expression turning hard. When she shook her head slightly, he said, “We already know you were the one that told Sitwell to rent the truck. If you cooperate with us, hand over the other two, we might be able to strike a deal.”

 

“Hey!” Sitwell shouted. “They never offered me any deal.”

 

“Do you know where they are?” Maria asked, coming around to face him.

 

“I know the guy’s car is—or was—in the Mandarin Parking garage,” he said angrily. “He was pissed that he had to leave it there.”

 

“Where in the garage?” Maria asked, pulling out her phone.

 

“Down in the loading dock area, inside a storage container,” Sitwell said, leaning forward. “When I dropped them off at Mandarin, after they trashed that office, she gave them some keys and a piece of paper. I don’t know what they were for or what she said. I took off right after that.”

 

Maria typed a message into her phone. Looking through the glass, they saw Phil reach for his own phone and check the screen. “Excuse me,” he said, getting to his feet.

 

Maria left the observation room and met Phil outside. When she came back in a few moments later, she said, “A unit is heading to Mandarin to check the loading dock.”

 

When Phil re-entered the interrogation room, he sat back down and said, “You gave them keys and a piece of paper. What were they for?”

 

Sharon gasped and looked at the two-way mirror. “Is Sitwell in there?” she asked, disbelief and shock written all over her face.

 

“He’s taking the deal we offered you,” Coulson stated matter-of-factly.

 

“Wait!” she cried, all composure flying out the window. “They’re at a property that Mandarin owns for corporate retreats! Pierce told me to get them out of town as soon as the job was done!”

 

Everyone in the observation room let out a collective breath. Bucky turned in Steve’s arms and threw his arms around his neck as a sob broke free. Steve held him close, barely holding back his own tears.

 

Peg, Sam, and Tony whooped, all of them converging on Steve and Bucky for a group hug. After a few seconds, the officer by the door cleared his throat and said, “Folks, you might want to hear this.”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve said, sniffling a little. Bucky refused to let him go, holding him close, but he tried to quiet down so they could hear what Sharon was saying.

 

“—so when Hydra completed the takeover, he promised to make me VP,” she was saying.

 

“Pierce promised to make you a Vice President of Hydra Publishing if you were able to hand over Steve Rogers and the rights to SHIELD Publishing?” Coulson asked.

 

“Yes,” she sighed, sounding defeated. “The takeover of Mandarin Publishing is considered ‘hostile,’ so everyone is on the chopping block,” she said. “I knew he’d been after those rights for over a year, so I figured I could make myself valuable by getting them for him.”

 

Bucky cursed under his breath. Steve held him close, kissing his forehead.

 

“Where is the property located?” Klein asked.

 

“I have the address on my phone,” Sharon said, gesturing tiredly to the device that was sitting on the table by her purse.

 

“Unlock it and give us the address, please,” Klein said. As she brought up the information, he asked, “How did they get there?”

 

“Mandarin company car.”

 

“Make and model?”

 

Sharon rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Grey? Four doors? It has a Mandarin logo sticker on the back bumper and a garage sensor in the upper right corner of the front windshield.”

 

“New York plates?” Coulson asked.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” she sighed. Sliding her phone across the table, she said, “That’s the address.”

 

“Hillsdale, New York,” Coulson said. “That’s about three hours from here. Mountains.” He wrote something down. “We’ll need to contact the Columbia County Sheriff, let him know we’re coming.” He stood up. “I need to step out, make a phone call.”

 

When Phil came into the observation room, Maria was the first one to greet him, giving him a high-five, as the officer stationed by the door escorted Sitwell back to his holding cell. Steve was right behind her, shaking Phil’s hand to the point that the detective begged for his hand back. “You’ve got a hell of a grip there, Rogers,” he joked, pretending to check his hand for broken bones.

 

“Sorry,” Steve said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

 

Bucky came up to Phil next, not hesitating for a moment to give him a hug. “Thanks, Detective Coulson,” he said.

 

“You’re welcome, Mister Barnes,” he smiled, before adding quietly, “or should I say, ‘Agent of SHIELD’?”

 

Bucky blinked at him. “How do you know my blog user name?” he asked, confused.

 

Phil grinned. “I like comics,” he shrugged. “My user name is, uh, ‘Agent P.’”

 

“Agent P?” Bucky smiled. “Is your profile pic the one with the blue duck in the fedora?”

 

“He’s actually a platypus,” Phil said.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Bucky chuckled, but Phil waved it off.

 

“I see you’re trying to find artwork to replace what Mister Rogers lost at his office.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, keeping his voice down. “I want to surprise him when the offices are reopened.”

 

“I may be able to help you with that,” Phil said, smiling his little, enigmatic smile. He backed up a step. “I know some people. I’ll make some calls.” He then stepped back again to address the room. “It’s going to be several hours before we can move on the house where Rumlow and Rollins are hiding out, probably not until daylight. You should all go home and get some rest. We’ll contact you when we have them in custody.”

 

“Everyone back to the Tower!” Tony cried. “We have some celebrating to do!”

 

“I’ll celebrate for real when Rumlow is behind bars,” Steve said, reaching for Bucky and taking him in his arms. “But I wouldn’t mind coming back to the Tower for a drink.”

 

“I’d like that, assuming I can get a ride to work tomorrow?” Bucky asked, hugging Steve close.

 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he grinned, leaning down to kiss Bucky’s soft, warm lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a great Thursday! I'm seeing Infinity War in a few hours and I'm just about coming unglued from the stress. I've stayed off all social media since Monday morning, and other than someone sending me an email with a minor spoiler IN THE SUBJECT LINE (Seriously? Who does that?) I've managed to avoid any details of what happens.
> 
> So there's only one chapter left in this story, but don't worry--we won't be saying goodbye. I love these boys too much to let them go. So many of you have embraced this fluffy little fic, and your comments and suggestions have been so positive and encouraging. Thank you all so much! :D
> 
> Have a wonderful weekend everyone!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	17. I'm Alive, So Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the last chapter of this part of the story. ::sigh:: Thank you all so much for your encouragement and positivity. I've fallen in love with this little AU, so we definitely are NOT saying goodbye; at least one sequel and several one-shots are taking up space on my brainstorming list. I have four (I think?) stories that I'm writing random chapters and notes for right now, and all of them are very different, so we'll have to see which one captures my fancy first. ;)
> 
> There is some final chapter smut, because OF COURSE THERE IS.
> 
> You've been warned. :)

 

_Two Months Later…._

 

“That is the last box,” Bucky sighed, dropping tiredly into a seat at the kitchen table, where Nat was looking through her phone messages and event calendar. Her business had picked up dramatically after she had provided desserts for Tony’s December Holiday party. Overwhelmingly positive mentions in several New York publications had led to an influx of phone calls and requests, and she was seriously looking at the possibility of actually having to rent a bigger kitchen space and hire help some time during the next year if the demand continued.

 

“You had one room to pack up, James,” she said, giving him the side-eye. “You have—what? Five boxes? Maybe six? And they’re not even big boxes.”

 

“Eight, actually, and some of them are heavy,” Bucky pouted, sticking his lower lip out at her.

 

“What do you even have left to move?” Nat asked, smirking. “Most of your things are over at your other place already.”

 

“It’s pretty much just books at this point,” Bucky said, smiling. “Some pictures and toiletries, too.”

 

The weeks since Steve had asked Bucky to move in with him had been a non-stop circus. After Sharon confessed to attempting to destroy Steve’s business in order to get him to sign everything over to Pierce and Hydra Publishing and secure a top position for herself, there was a rush of activity; police and local sheriff deputies raided the property in Hillsdale, New York, catching both Rumlow and Rollins completely off-guard. The two men had tried to run for it, but didn’t even make it out of the house before being apprehended.

 

Waking up to the news that Brock had been arrested and was in custody had led to an impromptu breakfast party on Tony’s floor of the Tower. Champagne was brought out and everyone toasted Maria, Phil, and Detective Klein, all of whom were on-scene when Rumlow and Rollins were caught. Bucky had one glass of champagne, not wanting to go overboard since he had to go to work later.

 

They cooked up a big breakfast, and everybody was in a great mood, when, after a glimpse of the fading bruises on his right arm, it had suddenly hit Bucky all at once—that he wouldn’t have to live in fear of Brock anymore, that Brock was going to jail, maybe even prison, and he wouldn’t be able to harass or hurt him or Steve ever again. He had turned away from the group; his lips clamped shut, his eyes filling with tears, at the overwhelming feeling of relief that had flooded his body at the realization.

 

Steve, of course, had understood immediately. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling Bucky into his arms and holding him close, tucked tightly against him. “It’s all over. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

 

Bucky had cried quietly, letting go of all the fear and tension and anxiety that Brock had caused him for the previous year. It was so liberating to finally be free of him, to know that he could be with Steve without that black cloud following his every move. The rest of the group went about putting food on the table, giving them space, while Steve held him, stroking his hair and gently swaying back and forth, as he got the burst of emotions out of his system.

 

When he started to calm, taking slow, shuddering breaths, Steve pulled a packet of tissues out of his pocket and held them up where Bucky could see them. He laughed wetly, plucking the tissues from Steve’s hand. “Always prepared for me to get weepy, huh, Rogers?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

 

“Always gonna take care of my baby,” Steve had murmured, nuzzling the side of Bucky’s head and kissing his cheek. Bucky had smiled up at him then, and Steve had fallen so hard, staring into those gorgeous, stormy, blue-grey eyes, even red-rimmed and wet from his tears, that the rest of the room drifted away and Steve had kissed him; softly, sweetly, but gaining in intensity before they were interrupted by a loudly cleared throat.

 

“Whoa, whoa, guys!” Sam had exclaimed, covering his eyes. “Save it for your own room, please! We’re trying to eat here!”

 

“Oh, hush,” Peggy had scolded with a smile, smacking Sam lightly on the shoulder. “They’re absolutely lovely.”

 

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘hot,’” Tony quipped, taking a sip of champagne, grinning and waggling his eyebrows at the two men who were still holding each other.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Pepper hummed, nodding in agreement, before she looked around in surprise. “Did I just say that out loud?”

 

“Yes, you did, Miss Potts,” Tony said, staring at her with a look of bewilderment. “How did I not know this was a turn-on for you?”

 

“Stop, just stop, please,” Sam begged, putting his hands over his ears.

 

“Sorry, Sam,” Steve chuckled, releasing Bucky from his arms with one last kiss so that they could get some breakfast.

 

While they were eating, Tony turned to Bucky. “So, Buckminster, Steve never showed any interest in changing the décor in your suite, but feel free to make any updates you want. I want you to be comfortable here, too, so let JARVIS know if there’s anything you need or want to make it homier.”

 

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky said, feeling a bit shy at the thought of changing anything that had been solely Steve’s space for so long.

 

Steve’s friends had been thrilled to hear that he and Bucky were moving in together and had offered to help Bucky transport his things. “I don’t actually have that much,” he shrugged. “The place I stayed in while I was getting my Master’s degree was furnished, and after I left there I moved into Nat and Clint’s guest room. So…yeah. Clothes, books, a few pictures of my sister and my mom, and my toiletries. That’s it.”

 

“The new dresser is arriving next week,” Steve smiled, leaning over to kiss Bucky’s cheek, teasing him about the piece of furniture they had bickered over. Bucky narrowed his eyes playfully and flicked Steve’s kneecap with his finger.

 

It had been a surreal experience to go to the 1st Precinct station to meet with Detective Klein later that morning with Tony, Peggy, and Sam. Maria and Phil were also there, the three of them having returned from the raid on the property in Hillsdale with Rumlow and Rollins. The look on Sharon’s face, after having spent the night in a holding cell, at catching sight of Steve and Bucky, arms around each other as they spoke to Phil and Maria, was priceless.

 

“You ruined _everything!_ ” she shouted at Steve, her eyes wild with anger. “Why couldn’t you just do what I wanted? Would it have been so terrible to do what I wanted?”

 

The officers chose that moment, however serendipitous, to bring Rumlow out of the booking area. As soon as Steve took a step in his direction, Bucky tightened his grip around his waist and Sam grabbed his arm, holding him back. When Rumlow looked over and saw them, he leered openly, the bruise on his jaw from Steve’s fist still clear in shades of blue, purple, and some green. “Hey, James,” he grinned nastily, “didja miss me?”

 

“Go to hell, Brock,” Bucky said, the disgust clear on his face. Steve pulled him even closer, turning him away from the two conspirators.

 

Sharon gaped at Rumlow. “You know him?”

 

“Yeah,” Brock said smugly, “James and I used to be _real_ close.”

 

“ _That’s_ your ex-boyfriend?” she asked, her eyes narrowed. “ _Steve_ is the one who punched you?” At Rumlow’s angry grimace, she started screaming at him. “ _Your_ ex-boyfriend is dating _my_ ex-boyfriend? Are you fucking _kidding me?_ ”

 

“That Steve guy is _your_ ex-boyfriend?” Brock asked, tipping his head in the big blond’s direction. “It was _his_ office you sent us to?”

 

“It didn’t occur to you to tell me you knew them? You fucking idiot!” she screeched.

 

“How was I supposed to know he was your ex-boyfriend, you crazy bitch!” Rumlow yelled right back at her.

 

“Okay, that’s enough, I think we’ve heard plenty,” Klein said, and he had the two screaming sociopaths separated into their own cells.

 

Tony, Sam, Peggy, Steve, and Bucky sat down with the three detectives then, to discuss the charges they were seeking against the four people they currently had in custody. They had to meet with the District Attorney, but were certain that Rumlow and Rollins were going to be charged with breaking and entering, grand larceny, and arson for the attack on Steve’s office, along with the separate assault and attempted kidnapping charges. “They’re repeat offenders, so they won’t be getting out of prison for a long time,” Klein said. “Either of them.”

 

“You know what this means, right, Buck?” Steve had asked him with a big smile. “Even though Rumlow was the one that trashed the office, it had nothing to do with you. He had no clue.”

 

“It doesn’t make what he did to you any less horrible,” Bucky shrugged.

 

“But I know you’ve been feeling guilty about it, like you were in some way responsible for what he did,” Steve said. “Now you know that it wasn’t about you at all, so you have absolutely no reason to feel bad, not that you should have to begin with. And don’t even try to deny it, I know you have been.”

 

Bucky smiled at him then, a little half-smile of admission. “You know me too well, Stevie.”

 

Tony had turned to Bucky then, and the look of total seriousness in his eyes surprised Bucky a little. “On the off-chance that this Rumlow asshole is even dumber than he looks and tries to fight the charges, I have a great lawyer. He’s a little unorthodox, but he’s the best.”

 

“Could he do that?” Bucky asked, startled. “Fight the charges, I mean?”

 

“It’s totally up to Rumlow,” Klein nodded. “It would be an unbelievably stupid decision on his part, but it is a possibility.”

 

“If he does, we’ll bury him,” Tony stated definitively, a hard glint in his eyes. “He won’t see daylight for decades.”

 

Bucky swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s do that.”

 

Sitwell’s charges were minor in comparison. “Receiving stolen goods, a felony due to the value of the equipment,” he surmised. Sharon was looking at more serious charges and almost definite jail time. “Conspiracy as well as aiding and abetting, at least,” Klein told them. “Again, this all has to go before the District Attorney. He’ll make the final decisions.”

 

“And what about Pierce?” Steve had asked. “When is he going to be arrested?”

 

That was the only part that hadn’t worked out to their satisfaction. Even though Sharon, Rumlow, and Rollins had all implicated Alexander Pierce in the conspiracy, there was no tangible evidence that he had had any part in the plan. His undoubtedly high-priced lawyer had turned the entire thing on Sharon—it was her job at stake, after all, so she was clearly the one who had come up with the entire plan. She had gotten Sitwell to rent the truck, had provided Rumlow and Rollins with all the information about Steve’s office, given them the Mandarin company car to get away and the Mandarin company property to hide out in.

 

Steve and Bucky had both been disgusted that no charges were filed against Pierce, but they weren’t overly surprised. At least they could say that he hadn’t gotten off completely scot-free; when the accusations against him had hit the papers, the Board members of Hydra Publishing were less than thrilled. There had been enough whispers about Pierce and his dishonest ways of doing business that he was removed as President of House of Hydra Publishing.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s crying all the way to the bank with his multi-million dollar severance package,” Sam had joked, shaking his head as they all lounged around Steve—and now Bucky’s—living room watching football.

 

“At least he won’t be bothering you anymore,” Bucky said, sitting comfortably between Steve’s legs and leaning back against his chest. “It was nice of that judge to grant the injunction against him.”

 

“Yes, it was,” Steve said, cuddling Bucky close and kissing the back of his neck. “Pierce can’t even say my name or look cross-eyed in my direction without risking jail time. It was lucky for us that the judge was a Captain America fan.”

 

And it turned out that the judge wasn’t the only one. Once news of what had really happened hit the newspapers, journalists were clamoring to interview both Steve—who they considered the underdog in the David-versus-Goliath-story of SHIELD against Hydra—and Tony, the billionaire CEO, about their decades-long friendship and how they worked together with police to solve the crime. Steve referred all requests to Sam, and then they and Tony had given an exclusive interview to a well-known New York literary magazine, which was then picked up by several national publications.

 

Other than answering the obligatory “Are you seeing anyone” question (which Steve had answered happily and proudly with “Yes, I have a brilliant, amazing, and wonderful boyfriend named James.”), they left Bucky out of the story, at his request, as his previous relationship with Brock, though a bizarre side-note to the story and interesting reading, had no bearing on the conspiracy between Sharon Carter and Alexander Pierce to take down SHIELD Publishing. Steve tried to stay out of it as much as he could, allowing Sam, Tony, and Detective Klein to tell much of the story, though he did relent (also at Bucky’s request) when they asked permission for a small photo shoot.

 

Bucky loved the resulting pictures; there was one of Steve and Tony that was very sweet, and several in which Steve wore dark jeans and a t-shirt bearing the trademark SHIELD logo that made Bucky’s eyes bug out. “Holy _fuck,_ you look hot,” he had blurted, making Steve blush to the tips of his ears. “I think this one is my favorite,” he said, pointing to the one where Steve, clearly feeling very self-conscious, had started laughing, his eyes scrunched shut. “I love your smile,” he whispered.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s my line,” Steve said with a growl, tipping Bucky’s chin up and kissing him with intent.

 

When the article came out, it was huge news in New York literary circles. Seeing the timing as fortuitous, Bucky arranged to have a SHIELD Publication Night at the bookstore, with Nick’s blessing, during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Bucky had been talking to Phil Coulson on a nearly daily basis regarding artwork for Steve, and Phil had come through beyond Bucky’s wildest hopes. He had found nearly a dozen people willing to donate their original artwork back to Steve, thrilled that it would be hanging in the SHIELD offices when they reopened after the New Year—people who were also members of SHIELD fan clubs who were more than happy to attend the party Bucky was putting together to present it to him.

 

Doing all of this without Steve’s knowledge had been more difficult than he could have imagined, however, because Steve was not only warm, intelligent, loving, and kind—he was also overly curious and incredibly nosy. Bucky handled most of the preparations while he was at work or on his weekday off while Steve was at the Tower.

 

On the night of the party, for which Bucky had hired Vinnie and Nat to cater, the bookstore had been packed with people, many of whom were there to meet the man who had created the _Captain America_ series. Steve had arrived at the bookstore, thinking he was going to be joining Bucky for his dinner break, to find the store closed early and draped in red, white, and blue, with framed pieces of his artwork placed on easels around the space.

 

“What is this?” he asked, shock clear on his face when Bucky had walked up to him, Sam, Tony, and Peggy close behind, everyone smiling widely. Maria, Phil, Nick, Clint, Nat, and Vinnie stood off to the side, clapping with the two hundred-plus people in attendance. Nearly every SHIELD employee had made it, and most of the bookstore staff was on hand for the private party as well.

 

“This is for you,” Bucky had whispered, taking Steve’s hand and drawing him into the store, “and to celebrate the re-opening of the SHIELD Publication offices.” He had beckoned to Wanda and Pietro then, and they had brought forward the repaired and repainted large metal SHIELD logo that had been damaged in the attack on the office. It was as good as new, with a thick clear coat finish that made the colors on the shield pop.

 

Steve was utterly and completely speechless for several seconds. He covered his mouth with one hand, the other hand still clutching Bucky’s. He finally took several shaky breaths and, with tears filling his eyes, said to the brunet, “You—you did all this? For me?”

 

“For you,” Bucky nodded. He took Steve’s face in his hands. “You deserve all this and more. I love you, Stevie.”

 

“I love you, too, baby, so much,” he choked out, before kissing Bucky to loud cheers and whistles, Pete, Darcy, and Peter the loudest of everyone in attendance. Steve had buried his face against Bucky’s shoulder, holding him tightly, as he struggled to maintain his composure. Bucky had a difficult time containing his own tears, thrilled that they had pulled off the surprise and at Steve’s reaction.

 

When Steve was finally able to pick his head up, Bucky had reached into his pocket and retrieved a packet of tissues, which caused Steve to throw his head back in laughter before laying another kiss on Bucky. “You are…amazing,” Steve said, smiling widely even as he dried his eyes. “Absolutely amazing.”

 

Never more than an arm’s reach apart for the majority of the evening, Steve personally thanked each and every person in attendance that night, signing books, shaking hands and taking pictures with the people who were donating artwork. He couldn’t believe that Bucky and Phil had done so much for him, that they had spent so much time finding people willing to do that for him. “You are a beloved local figure,” Tony said jokingly, shrugging. “People like you. God knows why, you’re such a curmudgeon, but they do.”

 

As far as Bucky was concerned, it was a perfect night, made all the more perfect when they finally got home, hours later. What started with Bucky pressed up against the front door, his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, ended with the both of them shouting each other’s names in pleasure in the bedroom.

 

 

***

 

In the morning, Bucky was just beginning to stir when Steve’s soft voice, followed by his soft hands and even softer kisses, asked him to stay still. “I’m almost finished, sweetheart,” he whispered.

 

“Finished with what, Stevie?” he asked sleepily, snuggling further into the pillow.

 

“You’ll see later,” he said quietly, smiling at his little love.

 

“M’kay,” Bucky murmured. “Love you.”

 

“Love you, too, baby boy.”

 

Bucky drifted off to sleep again, waking perhaps an hour later when Steve slid under the covers and began trailing hot kisses from the back of his neck down his spine. He shivered, his back arching immediately. “Mmm,” Bucky hummed, smiling drowsily and stretching his arms carefully over his head.

 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Steve whispered. “Couldn’t keep my hands off you for another second.”

 

“Not complaining,” Bucky grinned, his voice rough and scratchy. His stomach clenched pleasantly as Steve’s hand slipped under the covers, lightly trailing across his warm skin, over the curve of his bare ass and down his thigh. His lips followed the same path as his hand, stopping only when the bed sheets impeded his progress.

 

“Are you comfortable?” Steve asked, sliding further down the bed, under the warm sheets, until his chest was level with Bucky’s hips.

 

“Very,” Bucky sighed happily, melting as Steve wrapped his left arm around both of Bucky’s thighs, hugging his hips and kissing his lower back.

 

“Never want to wake up without you again,” Steve murmured, leaving tiny kisses across Bucky’s lower lumbar, shifting his body to lie between Bucky’s legs, supporting his upper body on his forearms. His fingertips grazed Bucky’s sides, tracing his ribcage, as Bucky twitched and giggled.

 

“You’re tickling me,” he said, pulling his arms down to tuck them into his sides.

 

“You’re just so sensitive,” Steve cooed, wrapping his hands around Bucky’s ribs, rubbing his thumbs along his lats. He leaned down, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s backside. “My sweet, gorgeous little boy.” He scooted a bit further down and rubbed his whiskers over the soft, warm flesh of Bucky’s ass. “Speaking of sensitive,” he said, nipping at the pinking skin as his boy squirmed, “how are you feeling this morning? Sore at all?”

 

“Just a little tender,” Bucky replied, his breaths coming a little faster. Just feeling Steve’s warm lips brushing over him was enough to make his dick begin to pay attention, and trapped as it was between his stomach and the bed, every little movement felt heavenly. “You pounded me good last night, Daddy,” he smiled, wiggling a little; as much as he could, anyway, with Steve holding him in place.

 

“You’re a little tender, sweetheart?” the big blond asked, his kisses becoming more focused on the cleft of the brunet’s ass. “Do you need Daddy to kiss it better?”

 

Bucky inhaled sharply, a full-body shudder wracking him. “Fuck,” he gasped, his hips canting upward of their own accord as heat pooled in his belly.

 

“What do you think, baby boy?” Steve purred, moving his hands to gently spread Bucky’s cheeks. His tongue flicked out, and the resulting whine and clench drew an approving rumble from deep in his chest. “Does that sound nice?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky whimpered. He gripped the sheets with both hands, trying so hard not to flinch or move too much. “Sounds so—oh, Jesus—so nice.”

 

“I love my beautiful boy,” Steve murmured, rubbing one hand over Bucky’s back as he kissed and licked the soft, supple flesh. “Every gorgeous inch of you.”

 

Soon he was gripping Bucky’s ass firmly with both hands, holding him open for his lips and tongue. His little boy writhed and squirmed, rolling his hips as much as possible down into the mattress, attempting to gain enough friction on his cock to get off, but Steve didn’t allow him enough movement to do so.

 

Bucky thought he was going to fucking explode. Steve was so thorough, so unbelievably generous with himself that the younger man was almost in tears. Endearments and profanities fell equally from his lips, wanton moans and cries bursting from him uncontrolled. “Fuck, Stevie, _please,_ ” he moaned, trying to push his hips back, trying to get more lips, more tongue, more beard, more _everything._

 

“Please what, baby doll?” Steve whispered, licking deeply into his love.

 

Bucky wailed, his toes curling, “God, _Daddy,_ please let me come!”

 

“Such a good, sweet boy,” Steve purred, pushing back onto his knees. “Turn over, baby.”

 

Once Steve’s words registered in his brain, Bucky flopped onto his back, breathing hard; his cock was red, wet, and straining, and he reached for Steve with a desperate, aching look in his eyes. “Please, please, _fuck,_ I need it so bad.”

 

“How do you want Daddy to give it to you?” Steve asked, stroking his own shaft and grinning with a predatory gleam in his eyes, licking his red, spit-slick and swollen lips.

 

Seeing Steve’s thick, hard shaft drove the breath from Bucky’s lungs. “Fuck me, Daddy,” he panted, his pupils blown and his skin flushed.

 

Steve reached immediately for the lube and a condom; quickly making sure Bucky was relaxed and open before sliding slowly inside his tight, hot body.

 

They were both so close, so on edge, that there was no way to draw this out very long. Bucky scrabbled at Steve’s back and shoulders with both hands, his blunt fingernails leaving pink lines on his fair skin. Steve had one hand wrapped under Bucky’s right shoulder, pulling him down into every thrust; the other hand was tangled in the brunet’s long, soft hair, forcibly tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat.

 

“ _Unh,_ please, oh fuck, Stevie, I’m so close,” Bucky gasped, pulling Steve’s lower back down, rolling his own hips up to get that friction he needed so desperately.

 

“Me, too, baby,” Steve whispered raggedly, his forehead against Bucky’s, his eyes screwed shut. “God, you feel so good, sweetheart, love you so much.”

 

“Love you, t— _oh,_ oh fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop, oh _fuck,_ Daddy, I— _unh!_ ” Bucky groaned, his muscles clamping down, squeezing hard, and pulling Steve right over the edge with him.

 

“Oh, god, yes, feel you coming, so good, so fucking good, baby,” Steve moaned, holding Bucky so tight that he could feel his cock pulse where it was pressed between them, coating them both with his release. Steve’s hips stuttered and his abdominal muscles contracted and his breath caught and his jaw fell open as his climax crashed through him, leaving him dazed and winded, curled around Bucky’s warm, relaxed body.

 

It was several minutes before Steve could coordinate his limbs enough to grab a tissue, slide carefully from Bucky’s body, remove the condom, and throw it away—not to mention the fact that he was loathe to allow even an extra inch of space between them. All he wanted was to hold his baby close, maybe sleep a little bit, get the feeling back in his legs, the basics.

 

Bucky let Steve roll them over, so that he was sprawled across the bigger man’s chest and tucked tightly against him; the blankets were pulled back up to ward off the morning chill and Steve’s arms were wrapped snugly around him, holding him close. “This is everything I want, right here,” Steve whispered, softly nuzzling his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head.

 

Bucky smiled sleepily. “Me, too,” he sighed, utterly content and satisfied.

 

***

 

The holidays with Steve had been a whirlwind of activity. Starting with Thanksgiving, for which Tony and Pepper had invited everyone—Peggy, Sam, Maria, Steve, Bucky, Nat, and Clint—to dinner at the Tower, all the way through New Year’s Eve, there were parties every other night, it seemed. Bucky was so happy that his friends and Steve’s friends all got along so well; everyone seemed to fit seamlessly together.

 

Steve and Bucky went out together to get a real tree and had decorated it while listening to Christmas music and drinking cocoa. The weather had gotten bitterly cold, snow promised soon, and Bucky was always freezing, with Steve constantly fussing at him to bundle up. They made a pact that they wouldn’t go overboard on Christmas gifts to each other, and they tried, they really did. Bucky gave Steve a collage frame of pictures of the two of them together—at the arts and crafts festival, out to dinner, just lounging together watching football. There were a couple pictures of Steve that Bucky had taken without his knowledge—laughing with Sam and Tony, or while drawing in a sketchbook. He even included one that Nat had taken of the two of them dozing together on the sofa in her living room; Bucky on Steve’s lap, cuddled into him while Steve held him close. That was probably Bucky’s favorite picture, as it frankly oozed with how much they loved each other. He had also gotten Steve new Copic markers, as some of his were wearing out, a knit hat and gloves, and—as a joke—he’d gotten Steve socks and underwear. “You got some for me, so it’s the least I could do,” Bucky grinned.

 

Steve, on the other hand, insisted on upgrading Bucky’s mobile phone to a new StarkTech model, finally giving in when Steve pointed out that his existing phone wouldn’t even be able to handle new software updates. Steve added Bucky as an authorized user on his desktop, so he was able to update and sync his information whenever he needed to.

 

He also gave Bucky a suit, despite Bucky’s protests that it was too expensive, since Tony’s holiday party was considered a formal event. It was gorgeous, though—slim fit, dark blue, a crisp, white shirt and black necktie—and the only thing that made Steve happier than seeing Bucky in that beautiful suit was peeling him out of it at the end of the night.

 

Claiming that the phone and the suit weren’t Christmas presents, since he gave them to Bucky before Christmas, he also gave him warm, cuddly things—a fluffy bathrobe, a Sherpa blanket, a new winter jacket, gloves, and thick socks—since Bucky really disliked being cold. Bucky absolutely loved them; cuddling and snuggling with Steve was pretty much his favorite thing, and he took every opportunity to climb into his lap and wrap them both in the blanket.

 

Clint and Nat had gone to visit Clint’s brother’s family for the day; they would be back that night. Bucky and Steve had gone to see them and exchange presents on Christmas Eve, and Nat had hugged Steve so hard, telling him how happy she was that he and Bucky had met—and, of course, threatening him with disembowelment if he ever hurt Bucky’s feelings. Clint had actually teared up at her affectionate display.

 

They went to Sam and Maria’s for Christmas dinner, Tony and Pepper joining them also; Peggy had gone to London to visit her family, but would be back for New Year’s. Sam and Maria made the announcement during dinner that they had gotten engaged; Maria showed everyone the ring, and the two happily told the story (hilariously embellished) about how Sam had actually gotten down on one knee to propose in his Rudolph-the-Red-Nosed-Reindeer Christmas pajamas. It was, without a doubt, the best Christmas Bucky had had in years.

 

The two decided that they wanted to spend New Year’s Eve alone; as it was a Sunday and neither man had to work on Monday, New Year’s Day, they looked forward to starting the New Year and their new lives just relaxing together. If they happened to spend a large part of that time naked, no one else was going to know about it.

 

***

 

Less than two weeks later, the last of Bucky’s things were finally transported to his new home. Steve had cleared out spaces on bookshelves and in the closet to make room, and the new dresser had arrived. Bucky had gone through most of his boxes prior to moving them, weeding out the things he really didn’t need anymore, so there wasn’t actually that much to assimilate at all.

 

Steve surprised Bucky one day soon after, by hanging several pictures of Bucky’s sister and mother next to Steve’s pictures of his own mother. He also made a request. “I really want to meet your sister,” Steve said. “You should invite her here. Maybe for Spring Break?”

 

“That’s in two months,” Bucky said. Indiana State University, where Becca was studying, had their break during the second week of March. “I can ask, but I don’t know if she has plans already—or even if my father will allow her to come.”

 

Bucky had barely gotten to speak to her before Christmas; he had been busy at work and she had been at home, so she had to be careful. Steve had made it a little easier, though; he had talked Bucky into letting him send Becca a StarkPhone for Christmas that was totally separate from their parents—they wouldn’t even know about it. “I’ve put you on my ‘Friends and Family Plan,’” he smiled, doing little air quotes with his fingers, “so it would be easy to add her as well. You could talk to her or send her texts whenever you want.”

 

“What is your plan like?” Bucky asked, an eyebrow quirked, ready for the ridiculous answer.

 

“SHIELD Publishing has a corporate account through StarkTech,” he admitted, cheeks reddening. “Unlimited everything. The works.”

 

“Naturally,” Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. “ _Fine,_ I’ll do it for Becca.”

 

Her excited phone call on Christmas morning had been worth it. They had spoken for nearly half an hour, and even through the tears, Steve could see how happy Bucky was. Bucky had put the phone on FaceTime, so that Steve could say hello, and she could thank him profusely for the phone. He could see and hear the similarities to Bucky in her features and her voice, and her obvious affection for her brother made Steve eager to meet her.

 

“Well, we can ask her, right? If there’s a problem, would you consider inviting your parents as well?” Steve asked. “Maybe if they came, too, then—“

 

“My father made his feelings clear,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I haven’t heard from him, not even once, in over eight years.” He cleared his throat, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. When Steve leaned forward to kiss the tiny furrow, Bucky looked at him with a little half-smile. “My sister is really all I have now, as far as blood relations go.”

 

“You’ll call her and ask?” Steve smiled, his expression hopeful.

 

“I’ll ask,” Bucky nodded. “I do miss her.”

 

***

 

The second week of January was a big week for Steve; the SHIELD Publications office reopened, and Tony had outdone himself when it came to the rebuild. Steve had an actual office (“Look, Steve! It has a door!” Sam gasped dramatically), and by relocating the printer room, they had expanded the space to give everyone more room.

 

“Seeing as how you need to hire more people anyway,” Tony had smiled, nearly bursting with pride at his best friend.

 

That Thursday, Bucky had told Steve that he wanted to come by and see the place, promising to bring goodies for everyone. Steve was unbelievably nervous and excited, because he had a big surprise for Bucky. He wasn’t sure how Bucky would react, though.

 

He’d had an idea, a random thought, really, that had been bouncing around in his head for years about Captain America. Everyone familiar with the series knew the origin story—that Cap had been just an ordinary guy, albeit sickly, with a strong sense of right and wrong until an experimental serum gave him super strength, super speed, et cetera—but Steve had never really played around with who Cap truly was when he was younger; how and why he had always stood up to bullies, no matter the odds.

 

Then one day, after he’d been dating Bucky for a couple of months, the idea had come to him. What if Cap had had a friend, a best friend, when he was a little boy, someone who had stood by him through thick and thin, who had always understood and appreciated Cap, even when he was small and ordinary, for who he was on the inside—someone who had signed up for the military when war broke out, determined to do the right thing, only to disappear one day, vanishing without a trace. Had he been killed in action? Captured by the enemy? No one knew...until one day, when he suddenly reappeared—and Captain America was his target.

 

Steve had worked on it feverishly, trying to keep it a surprise, because he knew exactly who this character would be based on. He had finally finished writing the background material and the preliminary character sketches, gotten written permission from Wanda to use her designs in exchange for artistic credit in every issue (Sam always made sure he was legally on the up-and-up), and he was ready to introduce his new character—and his new series.

 

When Bucky came into the office that Thursday, smiling when everyone was so pleased to see him, he had no clue what was about to happen. He was admiring the new office, exclaiming over how great the repaired SHIELD logo looked, spotlighted on the wall along with the donated artwork, when Steve came out to meet him, flushed and excited.

 

“What’s going on, Stevie? Are you feeling okay?” Bucky asked, putting his palm on Steve’s forehead, checking his temperature.

 

“I feel fantastic, incredible, amazing,” he said, grinning from ear-to-ear. “I’m just really happy you’re here, because there’s something I want you to see.”

 

He led Bucky back to the new, larger conference room (“They put windows in,” Bucky said jokingly under his breath) where Tony, Sam, and Peggy were waiting, all of them smiling broadly. Bucky saw several large easels set up, holding covered story boards. “Ooh, what are you working on?” he asked excitedly.

 

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” Steve said, smiling nervously. “I’ve been waiting until it’s ready to show it to you.”

 

“What is it?” Bucky asked eagerly.

 

Steve held his hand and brought him to the first board. “I’m introducing a new character, and a new series,” he said. “I want to know what you think.”

 

He slowly flipped the cover of the storyboard back, and watched as Bucky’s eyes grew large and round, looking at the cover artwork for what would be the first issue of the new series _The Winter Soldier._

 

“Oh, my god,” Bucky whispered.

 

There, on the cover, was an animated representation of him. The shoulder-length, wavy brown hair, the big, blue-grey eyes, the _holy shit_ metal arm with the red star on the shoulder—there was absolutely no question who this was based on. He took it all in; the black leather tactical gear, combat boots, the fierce look in the character’s eyes, and was absolutely speechless.

 

“Turns out, when Cap was little, he had a best friend named James, someone who showed him what strength and bravery and courage really meant,” Steve said quietly, watching Bucky’s stunned, wide-eyed reaction. “Someone who was always there for Cap when he needed him.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Cap wouldn’t be who he is without James.”

 

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he laughed, a little shakily, as tears filled his eyes. “Holy shit, Stevie,” he said, his voice catching. “You made me look like such a badass.”

 

“You are a badass, sweetheart,” Steve smiled, turning Bucky to face him. “A sweet, brave, adorable, strong, sensitive, courageous, beautiful little badass.” He cupped Bucky’s face in his hand, wiped away a tear with his thumb. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

 

“I think,” Bucky exhaled, trying to get himself together, “that this is the coolest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Show me the rest!”

 

Steve laughed then, and pulled Bucky into his arms, hugging him tight, as everyone in the office cheered. Bucky hadn’t even realized that they were all watching through the windows and the doorway, and he blushed and hid his face against Steve’s shoulder.

 

Eventually Steve showed him the other boards, outlining character background traits, special abilities and powers, the different sketches and color palettes. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to match your eye color?” Steve asked. “I think I had to invent a new one just to try and capture it.”

 

“I can’t believe you did this,” Bucky said, still shaking his head in shock, looking at the drawings. “This is just…I’m never getting over this.”

 

“Then I’m glad we have our whole lives ahead of us,” Steve said, tipping his chin up and kissing him softly. “So I can show you every day how happy I am that we met.”

 

Bucky grinned, looking up at Steve a little naughtily. “I can’t wait to get you alone later and show you how happy _I_ am that we met.”

 

Steve rested their foreheads together and smiled. “Anything for you, baby.”

 

 

THE END

 

<3

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, the end of Part 1.
> 
> These sweet adorkable boys will be back, don't worry. It might be a little while--not too long, I promise/hope--before another story is ready, but I'm going to try and get a one-shot out pretty quick. I'm thinking a Valentine's Day theme. If you want to catch it, make sure to bookmark the series! <3
> 
> Thank you again for all your support, and I hope to see you again soon!
> 
> GSB/CE1-4

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known that I do not live in New York, have never actually been to New York, and have based all distances and drive times on Google Maps.
> 
> Therefore, any errors in time or distance are the property of Google Maps. XD
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Constructive comments and suggestions are always welcome!


End file.
